


Mixed Signals

by pretense



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of connections and miscommunications, where nothing is certain save for the truth of their emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10355598/1/Mixed-Signals).
> 
> And [here is a mixtape](http://8tracks.com/killersmiletm/10-10-would-bang) companion of the KagaTaka variety :)

 

••••••••••••

_ Just to show that there is no escaping fate _

 ••••••••••••

Takao clutches at his stomach, air squeezed right out of his lungs as near-hysterical laughter spills into the evening. It’s one of the coldest winter nights but he’s comfortably warm.

“ Oi , stop laughing, damn it!” The reprove is ineffective, considering the humor underlining the half-hearted attempt to quiet him.

One look at the matching twitches on  Kagami’s  lips and brows hauls even more raucous laughter from Takao. A couple of passersby look at him funny but he ignores them in favor of slapping  Kagami’s  back. “But that’s just freaking hilarious! I can’t believe he flat out said it! And the nerve of those guys to back him up!”

“It must be senioritis,”  Kagami  says, grinning as he gives in. Noticing Takao’s confused face, he explains, “It’s a thing, you know, when third years get close to graduating and they can’t think straight so they start spewing weird stuff.”

“Can’t think  _ straight _ ,” Takao snickers.

“Then again, Tatsuya probably has it out for me.”  Kagami  shoots a balled-up  Maji  Burger wrapper into a waste bin. He’d been carrying it with him from the store where they had a late dinner.

Takao whistles as the balled up paper goes in. “Two points to  Seirin .”

“Shut up,”  Kagami  mutters as they turn the corner, entering the last stretch of road before the train station. At the lack of a witty comeback,  Kagami  looks over at his companion -- Takao’s eyes are glinting with mischief. “What?” he asks, heat creeping over his cheeks as Takao shows him his phone with the camera app at the ready.

“Why don’t we give them something to  _ really _  talk about?”


	2. These numbers represent a countdown

Takao is a bad person. _Despicable_ , says a voice in his head that sounds a lot like Midorima. After all, he really shouldn’t be harboring these thoughts, these feelings – they’re not healthy. Not to mention counter-productive. And if there’s anything Midorima hates, it’s letting good things go to waste.

The game is down to its last stretch and things are getting intense. Insanely so, if Takao has anything to say about it. Playing against the Generation of Miracles is one thing, but to see them play _each other_ … It broadcasts loud and clear how way out of his league they are.

Spectators venture to their area from neighboring courts, every other game paused in favor of watching the showdown of epic proportions. The slam of the worn rubber ball on pavement rings loud and clear as the crowd collectively holds their breath in anticipation.

Murasakibara provides a screen and Akashi passes the ball to Midorima. The clock ticks down to four seconds and the ball soars from deft fingers, a perfect arc towards the hoop. There’s a reverent silence when the basket counts a split second before the buzzer sounds, tying the score for their second overtime.

“Nice shooting, Shin-chan!” Takao shouts from the bench, breaking the silence. His throat is dry from the simmering heat but none of it registers when Midorima’s sharp gaze finds him and his ace acknowledges him with a nod.

“Damn you, Midorima!” Two identical shouts come from the court. Kagami and Aomine, who, upon realizing that the other had shouted the same thing, redirected their frustrations. “Stop copying me, bastard!” “No, _you_ stop copying me!”

Midorima slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose, muttering, “Fools, the both of them.”

“Now, now, don’t argue.” Kise slides himself in between his teammates. He pushes Kagami and Aomine apart with a palm on each chest, but the duo’s glares remain unbroken over his head.

“Mou~ This is getting boring.” Murasakibara yawns, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand while the other rummages through his pocket. Crumpled candy wrappers spill on the floor until he unearths a yet-uneaten lollipop.

Akashi watches him with a frown, lowering the handkerchief he’d been using to wipe the sweat from his neck. He opens his mouth to say something but someone else beats him to it.

“Atsushi, don’t litter on the court,” Himuro admonishes, coming up from the sidelines. The high heat of the afternoon doesn’t appear to affect his naturally-occurring fluidity.

“Sorry, Muro-chin,” Murasakibara says around the lollipop. He folds his impressive height into a squat as he helps Himuro pick up the brightly-colored plastic sheets. Himuro rewards him with a smile.

With Murasakibara taken care of, Akashi turns to Midorima. “This match is going to continue being a stalemate. We’ll call it a draw for now.” _And let’s get out of this sweltering heat_ remains unspoken but it’s evident in the way he wipes at a bead of sweat before it soaks into the collar of his shirt.

Takao jumps up from his seat after Riko and Momoi, the women agreeing with Akashi’s non-suggestion and calling the game set. As the players head back to the benches to get some shade and drinks, Takao’s focus lingers at the back, where his – no, _Shutoku’s_ – ace and Rakuzan’s captain are taking their time. Reflexively, his arm curls tighter around the diaper-wearing baby rabbit that stands as Midorima’s lucky item for the day. There’s that feeling again, bubbling up in his stomach, an ugly acidic thing that has no place in this new atmosphere of rekindled camaraderie that he’s blessedly ( _undeservedly_ ) a part of.

It’s good that the Generation of Miracles’ middle school dispute has been laid to the ground, that they can all enjoy basketball again – _very fortunate indeed_ , Midorima would say if he was in any way inclined to express his true feelings about it. Takao can see how much happier Midorima is these days, how much more dedicated he is in keeping his practice regimen because he now has a good reason (a very healthy one, at that) to push himself farther, to rise to an unreachable level of talent… One that Takao wholeheartedly wants to match. He wants to never lose sight of Midorima Shintarou.

“Shin-chan, catch!” Takao yells, throwing a cold can of red bean soup at his teammate… maybe-intentionally-not aiming a little off-target.

From seven feet away, Midorima acts on reflex, grabbing the tumbling can with both hands like he would a basketball. “Takao!”

“Hehe!” Takao flashes a half-apologetic grin and adds a peace sign for good measure.

Akashi raises a brow at him. From the thin line of his lips Takao _knows_ that Akashi sees right through him.

Ah, he really is a bad person.

••••••••••••

Kagami is still undecided whether living alone is a blessing or a curse.

Given that there’s no restaurant with enough seats to accommodate all of them even if it’s just for snacks, it was unanimously decided that they’ll crash at Kagami’s place for a while. Their other option is to let Akashi “deal” with the shopkeeper of whichever restaurant they choose and nobody is exactly comfortable with the idea.

More than a dozen teenagers file into his apartment and Kagami thanks the heavens that Alex is back in America for the time being. Himuro leads Murasakibara to the kitchen and Kagami joins them after telling everyone else not to touch anything. Mitobe and Koganei volunteer to help out in food preparation which makes Kagami grateful and gets Momoi and Riko pouting when a resounding “NO” comes from the group at _their_ offer to help.

“Can we at least watch TV? Or a DVD, or something?” Aomine grumbles, dawdling by the home entertainment system while everyone else tries to settle down somewhere.

“Daiki, sit down,” Akashi says, having claimed the detached sofa seat. Somehow his mere presence makes the blandly sleek furniture look like a throne. Midorima stands behind him, cradling the day’s lucky item on the crook of his elbow like it’s a live young.

“It’s okay, Akashi-kun.” Kuroko picks up the remote and turns on the TV. “Kagami-kun won’t mind as long as we put things back in order.”

From the kitchen, Kagami rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Ooh, can we watch this, then?” Kise pulls out a case from the DVD rack, showing it off to a sea of unimpressed faces.

“We’re not watching that.” Riko steps up and returns the case. She puts a finger on her lips as she chooses a different film.

“This one!” Momoi points to the exact title that Riko had been eyeing, taking it out and presenting it to the room with a flourish.

Seated beside Touou’s Sakurai, Takao nudges the jumpy brunet. “Typical, ne?” To which he gets a flustered “I’m sorry I’ve never seen this movie before!” in reply.

“Wow, really?” Aomine plops down as the DVD player loads the disk. “Me neither.”

“Then, hopefully, this will be an enlightening experience for all of us,” Akashi declares from his not-throne.

Hyuga looks over at Riko, brows rising to his hairline but he remains mum. Kiyoshi is the brave soul who dares to ask the question that’s hanging over everyone’s head, “Ah, so you’ve never watched it either, Akashi-kun?”

Even the kitchen-people stop what they’re doing to hear Akashi’s reply. Nobody turns their head to look, as though not-seeing would make them less guilty, but their ears all strain to hear the answer.

“No.”

The Menu Screen shows up and all noise resumes. Everyone gets into position to watch; those who can’t squeeze themselves on the couch settle on the floor. Kuroko selects play, getting comfortable with his bag on his lap. Nigou pokes his head out as the zip opens.

Looking over from where he’s setting drinks on a tray, Kagami grimaces. “What did I tell you about that dog, Kuroko?”

“Ah, shut up, it’s not doing anything.” Aomine smirks, anything to rile up his rival.

Sensing a friend, Nigou wiggles out of Kuroko’s bag and jumps over to Aomine. He’s greeted with a friendly ruffle between the ears.

Kagami sniffs and turns away. He catches Himuro’s eye and gets a consoling smile from the older teen. Himuro taps Murasakibara’s shoulder, asking for the cookie butter spread at the back of the cabinet – his personal stash since Kagami hates that thing and makes it a point to hide the jar when he isn’t around.

As Koganei cleans up, Mitobe cuts the sandwiches they prepared into quarters, stacking two whole loaves’ worth of it on a large platter. He had just placed the last square on top when Murasakibara picks it up, chews it once, then swallows.

“Nobody’s going to get full from that,” Murasakibara grumbles, eyeing Mitobe with great disappointment. “You should make bigger portions, hm.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Ah, Mitobe says getting full on sandwiches wouldn’t be good since it’s almost dinnertime,” Koganei chips in as he sets the last of the clean utensils on a rack to air-dry.

Murasakibara is definitely not sulking when he turns away from the silent hook shooter. “… Muro-chin, I’m gonna eat my candy now.” He digs into his own purchases before Himuro can stop him.

Izuki, Tsuchida, and Seirin’s incoming second-years get up to help distribute food and drinks. Kagami sits on the island counter, munching on his personal stack – a meatloaf sandwich swimming in condiments that prompts Murasakibara to use Himuro as a shield against the travesty and makes Kuroko morally obligated to call out how it’s “so very American of Kagami-kun.”

“Well, I’m not forcing you to eat it,” Kagami tosses back defensively, holding the plate closer to his chest. “And I made your stupid shake, didn’t I?”

Kuroko takes a sip of the homemade vanilla shake and smiles serenely. “Yes. I appreciate it very much, Kagami-kun.”

Kagami shoves as much of the sandwich that he can get into his mouth and looks away. When he looks up again, it’s to find Kuroko whispering something to a very confused looking Aomine who then leans back and shakes his head. Nigou barks happily when Aomine feeds him a sandwich square and Kuroko’s attention is completely diverted from the movie. Not like Kuroko is a movie sort of guy, anyway, Kagami figures, having been told one too many times by the shorter teen that the books are better than the movies.

They’re a noisy bunch of movie-watchers but it’s not like they understand the spoken dialogue, anyway. Akashi is sitting back with his fingers steeped together, watching what is essentially a children’s movie with eerily intense focus. Kise is undoubtedly live-tweeting the movie with the way he’s constantly typing on this phone. On the couch that the Seirin students have claimed for their own, Koganei and Tsuchida are discussing the movie at-length, guffawing every now and then when they remember the comedic parts – that is to say, most of the film. Riko and Momoi are also under discussion but of a more heated type regarding the game play depicted and instead of underclassmen listening in with interest they have Hyuga and Kiyoshi serving as buffers.

Having seen the movie too many times to count, Kagami opts to people-watch instead. It’s not something that he does often given his one-track mind on basketball but he’s feeling superbly at ease right now – like he always does after a good blood-pumping game. They _are_ supposed to be resting, in any case. His heart is still beating faster than usual, body still heated to the core. He knows he reeks of sweat, but then again, don’t they all? Showering can come later. He surveys the room at large and not for the first time, he wonders how things would’ve been if he went to middle school in Japan and not America; if he and Tatsuya never had that falling out; if things would’ve turned out different had he faced the Generation of Miracles at an earlier stage. That last one Kagami knows the answer to: he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Passion for basketball alone could only get him so far, he knows that now. He looks at the Seirin team and his heart swells with pride, with a rightful sense of belonging. His eyes focus on Kuroko and his heart leaps to his throat. Nothing would’ve been possible without him. Kagami knows that it was never meant to be him, that Kuroko could’ve chosen anyone to be his new light, but he’s infinitely grateful that he _is_. Wanting to be stronger for yourself is entirely different from wanting to be strong for someone else. Kagami looks to his side where Himuro is leaning back against the same counter he’s sitting on, Murasakibara’s arm not-so-subtly cushioning Himuro’s recline.

They could’ve been that once, him and Himuro. They had been closer than anyone he knew, bound by shared love for the sport but that love had been tainted – tainted with jealousy and blind devotion. It all seemed unsalvageable by the end of the Yosen-Seirin match at last year’s Winter Cup but when Kagami had given up, Kuroko had not. It’s all thanks to Kuroko that Kagami got the courage to reach out again, to fix what he’d naively thought to be over.

Kuroko seems to be an expert at those kinds of things – repairing friendships, keeping hope that everything will turn out right. Kuroko is amazing, not just on court, but off of it, where it really counts. Kagami watches him now, surrounded by his middle school teammates – _friends_ – and not for the first time he wonders if Kuroko sees him on the same level. He wonders if he is someone Kuroko would go to great lengths for, if he’s worth something – anything at all – to his teammate, partner, friend.

(Maybe something more.)

(Hopefully.)

“Tetsu.”

Kuroko turns to Aomine and is greeted with Nigou’s paw bumping his nose. Aomine cackles loudly at having successfully played his trick. Kuroko smiles through his reprimand, “You should watch the movie you insisted on having Aomine-kun.”

“Yeah, well, these guys are a bunch of jokes.” Aomine jerks his head at the screen, setting Nigou back on his lap.

“Really? Those Nerdlucks kinda remind me of a certain group,” Kagami mutters loud enough for Touou’s ace to hear.

“What did you say?” Aomine turns around to face him, brows knitted together.

“You heard me.” Kagami returns the glare with a smirk.

A burst of laughter rings out from the middle of the living room. Takao stands up, chortling, “Ah man, someone finally said it!” He side-steps Sakurai, shielding Kuroko and Aomine from Kagami’s view as he walks past them. “The color scheme is a little off, though,” Takao says, bumping his empty cup to Midorima’s shoulder. “Right, Shin-chan?”

Midorima fixes Takao with a look, pursed lips speaking for him.

Takao takes it in stride. “I’m getting a refill, need one?”

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” Takao shrugs, making his way to the kitchen. He gives Kagami lopsided grin as he passes.

“Muro-chin, does that make me the purple one?” Murasakibara asks.

“I’m thinking you don’t like him?” Himuro ventures.

Murasakibara shakes his head. “He’s not the tallest so it can’t be me. And the little red one should’ve played the leader so it matches Aka-chin.”

Himuro politely covers a snort with one hand and the whole room cuts itself short from letting any more than a quirk of humor escape. Even Aomine has enough common sense not to laugh out loud; he faces the TV and sits still. It lasts for a few seconds then he’s leaning over to Kuroko and saying something in an undertone that gets Kuroko’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

Kagami gobbles up the last piece of his sandwich a little more viciously than necessary.

“So you and I are in the same boat, huh?”

Takao laughs when Kagami nearly falls off his seat, offering a smile in apology when Seirin’s ace glowers at him.

“What are you talking about?” Kagami grumbles, swallowing his food.

Takao drinks up, meaningfully leaving his eyes clear over the rim of the cup so he can stare some sense into Kagami. It takes a quick glance over to the front of the room and arching up his brows for Kagami to get the right idea.

“It’s not like that,” Kagami denies even as his ears turn red.

“Mm-hm, yeah, it totally is,” Takao grins wider. “I don’t see anyone else getting homemade milkshakes.”

“What are you trying to say?” Kagami narrows his eyes at the shorter teen.

Takao shrugs, leaning on top of the counter. “It takes one to know one, that’s all.”

Kagami blinks, then swerves to look at where Midorima has pulled over a barstool to where he’s sitting beside Akashi. Beyond Teikou’s ex-captain-and-vice-captain pair, Kagami sees Kuroko and Aomine playing with Nigou. “… Yeah.”

“I mean, it’s good that they’re not out to kill each other anymore” – Kagami gives him an unimpressed look and Takao revises – “In a manner of speaking. But, man, it’s like middle school all over again. I _hated_ middle school, just so you know,” he adds.

“It’s not like they’re untouchable,” Kagami says, trying to be helpful.

Takao snorts. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Super-High-School-Level-Jumper.”

“ _What_?”

Takao waves a hand at him. “Never mind.” Figures the guy doesn’t have a life outside of basketball. “Let me put it this way: in a comic book world, people like you and the Generation of Miracles are the big damn heroes. Me? I’m just a sidekick. Do you _know_ how many Robins Batman has disposed of in his career?”

“Uh… I can’t say I do.” Kagami turns in his seat to face Takao properly, his back to the movie and his guests. “But, ah–” he scratches at his cheek “–sidekicks can turn out to be heroes, too. In a way they’re already heroes in their own right.”

Silver eyes shine as Takao tilts his head, fluttering his lashes. “Aw, aren’t you sweet? Why don’t you give me your number and maybe I’ll call you back.”

“Oh. Okay.” Kagami takes the proffered phone and is in the middle of typing his number when it hits him. “Wait, what?”

Sputtering laughter spills from Takao. “Aw, man, and it was going so smoothly, too!”

“ _Were you coming onto me_?” Kagami hisses while his whole face burns. He checks to see whether Himuro or anyone else close by is looking - they aren’t, but he keeps his voice to a minimum nonetheless.

“Just save your number,” Takao urges. “You’re the one who started it, with that whole sidekick-hero crap.”

“I’m pretty sure that was you,” Kagami says, blush receding as he returns the phone.

“Mm, maybe.” Takao types in a name and saves his new contact before pocketing his phone. “But any maiden’s heart would’ve totally swooned at your lines.” He winks. He’s about to leave when Kagami holds him back with a tap on the shoulder.

Kagami extends his phone over to Takao. “Your number.”

“My, my, what for?” Takao preens as he takes the mobile and punches in his cell number.

“Just to make sure I know who’s going to be prank calling me in the middle of the night,” Kagami replies.

“I would _never_.” Takao puts a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. He returns Kagami’s phone and heads over to his spot in the living room, not once looking back.

Midorima shifts slightly, dropping a hand into the outer pocket of his bag, pretending to search its contents. Fluorescent light glints at the edge of his glasses as he scrutinizes Kagami from his periphery. Takao took an awful long time in getting a refill but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary in the kitchen. Midorima straightens up, holding his lucky item a little closer than before, just to be sure.

The movie finishes and everyone stretches out their limbs. Nigou has fallen asleep and Kuroko carefully swaddles the pup with his dirty laundry before closing the gym bag with his pet in it. They say their goodbyes – Himuro’s not staying over this weekend since it’s enrollment period at Yosen – and Kagami closes the door, savoring the blessed silence.

Kagami’s first order of business is to take a shower – a long and hot one, to relieve the stresses of the day. He takes a nap before dinner, after which he cleans the dishes that have piled up since that afternoon. His phone buzzes with a new message just as he’s finishing. Drying his hands on a wash cloth, Kagami picks up the device and reads the series of messages he’d been ignoring the past twenty minutes.

 **From: Takao**  
Subject: Tai-chan~!!  
:: Shin-chan’s abusing my love for him again! He beat me at rock-paper-scissors and now I have to cart him home! Not only that, but he invited Akashi over which basically makes me their chauffeur! Do I look like a chauffeur, Tai-chan?

 **From: Takao**  
 **Subject: Re: Tai-chan~!!**  
:: We’re stuck in traffic right now and I will never get over the shame of driving a rickshaw in the middle of Tokyo. Also, Shin-chan has graciously decided NOT to include me in what is surely some riveting conversation that the two of them are having behind my back.

 **From: Takao**  
 **Subject: Re: Tai-chan~!!**  
:: AKASHI. HAS. A. CAR. WAITING. AT. SHIN. CHAN’S. HOUSE.  
:: I. AM. SO. DONE. RIGHT. NOW.

Kagami exits his mailbox, frowning and wondering what had gotten into his brain for him to willingly subject himself to this curse. The phone buzzes in his hand and Kagami decides that he won’t stand for it any longer, he’s going to tell Takao to stop flooding his inbox and –

 **From: Takao**  
 **Subject: Re: Tai-chan~!!**  
:: Do you believe that first loves never die?

Kagami chokes on air, staring at Takao’s message on his screen. Where did _that_ come from? The phone buzzes again.

:: I do. Saw it with my own two eyes.

He sighs. Who knew that basketball players could be so dramatic?

Curses. Blessings. Different sides of the same coin, really. Kagami hits call.


	3. Probabilities

“I think,” Kagami pants, dribbling the basketball between his legs, trying to find an opening. “You’re delusional.” _There!_ “There’s no way–” he fakes right and drives for the hoop, dunking the ball with a satisfying creak of the scoreboard. “–he’ll ever go out with me.”

“I don’t think you’re even trying,” Takao says, taking the ball and making a fast break for the other end of the court.

Kagami watches him go for an easy lay-up.

The height of Takao’s jump gives him just the right distance to throw the ball in but there’s a little too much force in his release. The ball skims around the metal ring, almost falling out at one point before finally falling into the net.

“And I think you’re trying too hard,” Kagami comments, crossing the court in large strides until he’s five feet away from Takao.

Ball held against his chest, Takao passes to Kagami. Earth scatters from where the ball bounces off the court floor on its way to Kagami’s hands. “How mean, Tai-chan.” Takao wipes the sweat off his neck and face using the collar of his t-shirt. “You’re supposed to compliment your partner on dates. Not criticize them.”

“This isn’t a date,” Kagami huffs, palming the ball. He starts his next play with slow, measured dribbles.

“Have you ever been on a date?” Takao asks, getting into a defensive position.

“A few,” Kagami admits, holding out an arm to block Takao as he charges over to the far-end.

“With Yosen’s ace?”

Kagami skids to a halt, almost losing the ball to Takao’s swipe. He quickly turns away, taking advantage of the other’s limited reach and going for a three-pointer. The ball misses and Kagami pins Takao with a glare.

The shorter teen wears a smile with no remorse. “Oh, right, Yosen. Double aces. Pfft. My bad. Let me ask that again; did you–?”

“No, Takao, I did not go out with Tatsuya,” Kagami grits out, getting the ball and throwing it to the other teen.

“But you wanted to,” Takao fishes.

“No!” Kagami wishes he’d aimed the ball at Takao’s head.

“Oh, so _he_ wanted to.” Takao starts dribbling as he pieces together the story.

“What does that have to do with me and Kuroko?” Kagami gets into the defensive with furrowed brows.

“Well at least you can admit that much,” Takao muses. “It has to do with a lot because I’m trying to figure out what you’re lacking.”

“Me? Lacking?”

“Yep. Initiative to be exact.” Takao tries to fake a shot and then run for it but Kagami blocks both attempts. “See all this focus you got? You just need to apply it to more pressing situations.”

“I don’t even know if he likes me,” Kagami grumbles, hating how much he sounds like the lovefooled teen that he is.

“See, that’s your problem.” Takao passes the ball past Kagami, running around Seirin’s ace and catching the ball. He makes for another basket but Kagami stops it with a steal. Takao stands back and adjusts his headband. “You don’t like taking risks. You get too comfortable with a guy, put him in one category and keep him there. Think outside the box, Tai-chan.”

Kagami twitches at the nickname but Takao refuses to call him anything else. “You sound just like Tatsuya,” he mutters, making his shot.

“Well he got it right, I mean,” Takao shrugs, a bit of a leer tugging at his lips. “He snatched up _his_ Miracle, didn’t he?” His smile grows at Kagami’s pointed stare. “The rest of us lowly fools can only hope to be half the _ikemen_ that he is.”

“Why don’t _you_ take your own advice?” Kagami asks, passing the ball.

“As a matter of fact I do.”

“And?”

“Shin-chan’s not budging.” Takao gets the ball spinning on the tip of his pointing finger. “I mean, I pick him up, cart him to and from school, I carry his lucky items around, _and_ I stay after regular practice hours to practice _even more_ with him. I think nothing less of a marriage proposal would get through to that man.” The ball drops and Takao dribbles it, setting up a rhythmic pace. “Do you think I should ask for his hand in marriage?”

“You’re in high school!” Kagami retorts, incredulous.

Takao shrugs. “Details.”

Kagami shakes his head, “I don’t even get what you see in that guy.”

“Well, good,” Takao replies. “Because if you truly got to know Shin-chan you’d want him, too. And I really don’t need another Miracle to compete with.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t you with your better half?”

“Because he’s busy with his online gaming,” Takao says.

Kagami is confused. “Really? I never took him for that type.”

“He isn’t,” Takao grudgingly admits. “But _apparently_ there’s Shogi Online now and _Akashi_ needs decent competition.”

“Oh.” Kagami tries to find other words of consolation but all he can come up with is, “That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Takao deflates, dribbles ceasing and he catches the ball. “You hungry?”

“When am I not?”

They pack up the ball and empty their water bottles. As they’re leaving the court, they squabble over where to eat since there’s a long avenue of food vendors around the corner but Kagami’s craving Maji Burgers.

“You can’t always eat Maji Burgers,” Takao protests. “And I refuse to be dragged into your cholesterol-infested world.”

“Because street food is a lot healthier.” Kagami counters.

“Fine, fine, I can compromise.” Takao pulls at the sleeve of Kagami’s sweat-soaked shirt. “We pass through my store first and I’ll get take out. Then we can go to Maji Burger.”

“Fine by me.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Their gazes lock and they cough to cover up their snickers only to laugh even harder when their eyes meet for a second time. Busy with avoiding the other’s eyes, they nearly collide with someone on the street if not for Takao’s timely grip on Kagami’s arm to halt him.

“Oh, hey, Kagami-kun and… Takao-kun.”

They look up to find Kiyoshi smiling down on them.

“Ah, Senpai, hey.” Kagami nods while Takao gives a quick bow in greeting beside him. “What are you doing out?”

“Just running some errands,” Kiyoshi answers, holding up the shopping bag in his hand. “And you two? No, wait, don’t tell me.” He goes over their outfits and sweat-damp hair.

“Well, what else could we be doing?” Takao grins and it’s a proof of how much time he’d been spending with the Shutoku player that Kagami catches the underlying innuendo. Takao’s innocent smile remains static even as Kagami elbows him in the side.

“Not to be rude, but I figured you’d be with Kuroko-kun,” Kiyoshi nods at Kagami. Turning to Takao, he adds. “And you’re attached to the hip with Midorima-kun, aren’t you?”

“Kuroko can’t feel his legs.”

“Shin-chan’s enjoying himself in front of the computer.”

A long meaningful second passes where Kiyoshi stares unblinkingly at them and Kagami mentally curses Takao and his contagious perverted mind.

“Because of yesterday’s drills! Kuroko’s – uh, just tired.”

Takao’s realization comes a split second after Kagami’s outburst. “Gaming! Online gaming, you know? Ahaha.” He fails to snuff out his giggling and resorts to hiding behind Kagami until they’re manageable again.

“Well, it’s good that you two are helping each other out during these trying times,” Kiyoshi says wryly once Takao is able to face him. “Ah, don’t let me stall you. I’ll be on my way. See you Monday, Kagami-kun.” He nods. “Takao-kun.”

“Yeah, sure.” Takao chirpily waves goodbye as Kiyoshi crosses the street.

“I am so dead,” Kagami deadpans once his upperclassman is out of sight and hearing range.

“Why’s that?” Takao asks perfunctorily as he browses the window display of the shop closest to them.

“Who knows what’s going on in that guy’s head?” Kagami stresses. “What if he makes assumptions?”

“People always make assumptions, there’s nothing to do about that.” Takao decides he doesn’t like the shop’s menu and moves to the next one, Kagami trailing after him.

“Well, yeah, but what if he thinks that we’re…” Kagami makes vague hand gestures.

Takao straightens up and purses his lips. “I am highly offended that you wouldn’t want to be mistaken as my boyfriend, Tai-chan.” His hair does a little flip as he turns away, strolling towards the adjacent store. “Do you _know_ how many confessions I get every week? How many I have to turn down?”

“You’re no Kise Ryota, so I’m counting zero,” Kagami answers, shoving his hands into his pockets as Takao looks at the next window’s display.

“You wound me.” Takao shoots Kagami a doe-eyed look. “I’ll have you know Kise-chi thinks I have impeccable fashion sense!”

“How come he’s _Kise-chi_ and I’m _Tai-chan_?” Kagami demands.

“‘Coz I already have a Ryou-chan; y’know, from Touou.” Takao waves a hand in the air. “Now I’ve got a real question for you: are you out?”

“Well, Alex knows. And Tatsuya. And you.” Kagami counts off a finger for each name, grimacing. “It’s not like anyone’s asking specifically.”

Takao hums, finally finding something to eat by the fourth store. He calls out his order and turns to Kagami once more. “Kise-chi suspects you,” he shares. “Then again, he does suspect everyone. He wants to play matchmaker for me and Shin-chan but, well…” Takao grins ruefully. “He’s just too dere-dere for my tsun.”

Kagami shakes his head, he still doesn’t understand a lot of Japanese expressions but the matchmaking part is enough for him to get the gist of it. Kise the matchmaker spells a lot like trouble.

“Kise-chi gets along fine with Kuroko, though,” Takao starts, paying for his food as they resume walking. “I can maybe let slip something about a certain Tai-chan and…”

“God, no,” Kagami scowls. “The last thing I want is for everyone and their mother to know about my desperate non-affair with my shadow.” When Takao’s snickers turn into full-blown laughter, Kagami just rolls his eyes, bumping shoulders with the shorter teen. “Ah, shut up.”

“Lights and shadows,” Takao huffs, blowing on a steaming piece of takoyaki before he bites into it. “Guess we’ll have to see which set is better, huh? You’ll have to forgive me if I’m partial to my team.”

“Only a couple more games until we meet at the semis…” Kagami grins down at Takao. “I won’t accept heartache as an excuse if you don’t bring your A-game.”

Takao returns his smile. “You can count on it.”

••••••••••••

Shutoku reigns as the Inter-High champion, generously paying back Rakuzan for their defeat in their last match-up. Third place is taken by the Blue Elites, much to Himuro’s chagrin as Yosen’s captain; he vows revenge in his final Winter Cup and Murasakibara starts wearing his hair in a ponytail most practice days.

The shrill sound of a whistle cuts through the air, jolting the teens loading their luggage into the bus.

“Hurry up,” Riko urges the team, insistently tapping one foot on the ground. “We’ve got a lot of training to do if we want to show our faces with dignity at the Winter Cup this year.” They were so close to victory but whatever growth they had was apparently doubled by the other teams; Touou’s especially, with their fifteen-point lead in the semifinals. This is her last chance to hold the championship title with the team she had helped create and like hell that she’d graduate with anything less than a first place trophy on display.

“Kagami, stop texting and help load the bags,” Hyuga shouts, weak morning sunlight glinting dangerously off his glasses.

“Sorry, Captain!” Kagami hastily shoves his phone into his pockets, hauling the remaining four bags to the bus’ luggage compartment in one go. His pocket vibrates but with Hyuga still in sight and seething, Kagami deems it best to wait until the ride has started before reading his new message. Hoping to get out of his captain’s wrath, Kagami ducks into the bus. Outside, Kiyoshi gleefully pats the top of Hyuga’s head, telling him not to be so grumpy this early in the morning.

Aida Kagetora gives them his usual warning about disrespecting his beloved daughter, brandishing his gun at the cowering first years and Kagami not-so-fondly remembers the time when he’d been at the end of that barrel. They pile into the bus with the freshmen taking the seat farthest from the coach.

Izuki does a headcount to ensure that they’re all there only to stop when he finds they’re one person short. “Um.” He narrows his eyes, trying to make sure he counted correctly, turning to Riko, he whispers, “Coach, Kuroko isn’t here.”

“Check the seat beside Kagami,” Riko says, busily looking for the notebook where she records the team’s training regimen, she knows she packed it in here somewhere. It’d be no good to go to camp without it. “If he’s not there, ask Kagami.”

Shaking his head, Izuki walks over to where Kagami is leaning across the aisle, conversing with Furihata.

“Okay, my bad,” Kagami is saying as Izuki approaches. “I _may_ have misplaced your CD the other day.” He remembers Takao going through his music collection the last time he was over. Damn kid should learn to put things back where they belong.

“Do you at least remember where you left it?” Kawahara asks, headphones resting around his neck, muffled j-rock music blaring.

“It’s probably in my other bag at home. I’ll get it back to you after training camp.” Kagami punctuates that promise with a grin. He makes a mental note to ask Takao about the CD.

“Oh, you better,” Furihata gripes. His frown disappears upon noticing a fourth party to the conversation. “Izuki-senpai.”

“Has any of you seen Kuroko? We’re about to leave.” Though Izuki is asking the question to the second years en masse, his eyes are focused on Kagami.

It must’ve been comical to an outsider, the way his peers automatically turn to him for an answer. Kagami lifts himself up with a knee on his seat, searching the bus for his partner. “He’s not here,” he concludes, lips pulled down in concern.

“Go look for him, then.” Riko jerks her head in the door’s direction, training journal in hand. “We don’t want to be late.”

Kagami has long-since learned to follow the coach’s orders without question, disobedience (or even mere grumbling) will only get him extra drills. He excuses himself and heads out the door, racking his brain for where he’d last seen Kuroko when he bumps into someone on his way out the doors.

Blue eyes wide with surprise draw Kagami out of his stupor and into action. He makes a grab for his teammate, an instinct to protect overriding everything else. In his haste, he loses balance. Gravity pulls him down but honed reflexes get his free hand grabbing the nearest post for support.

There’s a gasp and a gust of wind that ruffles his bangs into his eyes. Kuroko blinks, looking up at Kagami who’s holding him to his chest. So that’s why it’s so warm, he muses, gauging their position and finding himself amazed at the steep incline to which they’re hanging by the bus entrance. The tips of his shoes are barely touching the edge of the first step.

“Damn it, Kuroko, don’t just show up like that,” Kagami complains, brows pulled together as he stares down at the guy.

“I thought it was time to leave,” Kuroko replies in a leveled tone, fists curling into themselves to resist holding on to the collar of Kagami’s varsity jacket - because who knows if he can stop himself from going further if he gives in to that.

“Yeah and I was looking for you.” Kagami realizes too late how redundant his statement is. He blinks down at Kuroko, willing the blush of his embarrassment to disappear. “Well, now you’re here.”

“And you idiots are blocking the doorway.” There’s something lethal in the calm tone Hyuga uses. Or maybe it’s the way he looms over them, shadows over his eyes. Behind him, Kiyoshi looks a bit too amused by the events.

Kagami and Kuroko hastily disentangle themselves, shuffling to their seats under the knowing (and humored) looks of their teammates.

 _Sheesh_ , Kagami grimaces as he takes the window seat and his phone buzzes again. He decidedly ignores the new message as Hyuga steps up front and pins him with a Look.

Seirin’s captain does a final check of the bus passengers. Once assured that they have everything, Hyuga sits down and the bus starts moving. It’s going to be some two hours until they reach their camp so he replaces his glasses with an eye mask, shouting for the team to quiet down before he settles in.

Furihata and Kawahara plug in their headsets, nodding along to rhythms that only they can hear, behind them sits Fukuda who’s tapping his pen on a pocket Sudoku book. The first years in the back row are hunched over their portable game consoles, muttering curses and challenges under their breath. Up front Riko is cheerfully discussing the seventh level of Dante’s Inferno – also known as their new training schedule – with Kiyoshi who’s nodding appreciatively (not like he has a choice). Behind them are the other third years who, left to their own devices, are pulling pranks on their sleep-deprived Captain.

With everyone else’s attention diverted, Kagami pulls out his phone and finds two new messages.

 **From: Takao**  
Subject: Re: You are officially my lucky charm!  
:: Don’t be like that! :P We won it for Tokyo, so in a way, it was your win, too~  
::Oh I know! I’ll give you a thank-you-for-watching-us-wipe-Rakuzan’s-asses kiss at camp! We’re already on the way. You?

Kagami rolls his eyes but he’s grinning by the time he sends his reply. His expression is enough to pique Kuroko’s interest.

“Kagami-kun is enviable,” Kuroko says. “Managing a social life in addition to school and basketball.”

“What are you talking about?” is Kagami’s defensive reply, holding his phone face-down.

“I’m not going to read your messages,” Kuroko points out, a little annoyed that Kagami thinks that of him. “That would be rude. And I’m not prying.”

But the pout Kuroko unconsciously wears tells Kagami how infinitely curious he is. A part of Kagami is thrilled at what this might mean but he squashes it down in favor of being objective. “It’s just Takao,” he informs the other teen. There’s no reason to hide it, after all. “He won’t shut up about their win yesterday.”

Kuroko nods. “I see.” When the phone buzzes again, he adds, “We should give them a proper congratulation when we meet at the training camp.”

They’re a little late in scheduling because their first years had a lot of things to build on before Riko’s father deemed them capable of surviving his daughter’s exhaustive regimen. One benefit of that was being able to watch final matches of the Interhigh and gauging for themselves what they need to prepare for in the upcoming Winter Cup.

Kagami smiles at the memory of Shutoku’s performance at the finals, he got so riled up just watching that he had to blow off steam at the nearest street court for a couple of hours following the game. The thought of playing practice games with the reigning champions is enough to get him heated up. He grins at Kuroko. “You just read my mind.”

Kuroko silently wishes that he could do just that when Kagami turns his attention back to his phone, eyes crinkling in humor that Kuroko isn’t allowed to share. He wonders what they could be talking about, who and why. His own phone is silent in his bag.


	4. When you can't win

Watching the first years’ struggle to keep their footing on the sand delights the upperclassmen. Riko plants her hands on her hips and shouts at them to keep moving.

“Those muscles aren’t going to develop themselves!” The coach shouts, picking up the ball that’s gone out of bounds and throwing it back to the team.

It’s the second day of training camp and their practice match with Shutoku is scheduled for the afternoon. The morning’s training started at dawn where they jogged along the coastline. When the sun had risen substantially, Riko procured a basketball from the gym and set up a match by diving them into teams of four.

The drill works on their leg strength and ball-passing abilities. Kuroko slumps with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Izuki claps him on the shoulder, wearing the smile he’s patented when he’s about to impart a particularly witty pun.

“Don’t start, Izuki,” Hyuga cuts in, panting. “We’re two points behind.” He turns to Hajime, one of their freshmen, and calls for a quick huddle. “Steal the ball then shoot if you’ve got an opening; otherwise pass it to me.”

They all nod and Riko gets the timer going, counting down the last fifteen seconds.

Bare feet move on the heated sand, kicking up particles as hands scrabble for possession of the ball. Before they know it, Riko’s whistle sounds and the winner is declared. It’s Kiyoshi’s team who will be facing Mitobe’s for the final round.

Kagami cracks his knuckles, almost scaring the two freshmen he’s got on his team with Mitobe. “Alright!”

They play until the sun has reached its apex and their stomachs are grumbling. The losing teams’ punishment is to cook lunch while the final match takes place. Mitobe’s smile is a little more radiant than usual at their win while Kagami’s pride is of the more boisterous kind. He barges into the dining room, drowning out the noise with his exclamation.

“Man, I’m hungry!”

Almost immediately, there comes a reply. “Hi Hungry, I’m Takao!”

The Shutoku group chokes on their food in abrupt laughter. The second years around Takao stare at him as Kagami whacks him behind the head as he passes. Takao grins to himself and resumes eating.

“You’re awfully friendly,” Midorima says as he puts down his bowl and chopsticks.

Takao pauses mid-sip. He lowers his drink and turns to the shooting guard. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t.”

There’s an edge in Midorima’s tone that quiets Takao’s joking nature. He knows what not to do when Midorima gets all prissy like that and in any case, they have too many an audience should he dare to press the issue. Takao just shrugs, “Whatever you say, Shin-chan.”

Kagami consumes three servings of lunch plus that side dish that Kuroko refuses to eat. They’re given one hour to prepare for the practice match and this time, Riko lets Kagami participate. The two schools have their warm-up together then huddle at their benches for a pre-game strategy talk. Shutoku’s starting line-up is led by their new captain Jenrya. With him are two more seniors and the team’s own light and shadow. Over at Seirin, Hyuga skips the pep talk in favor of rearranging their lineup; they all know who they’re dealing with.

Midorima leads the charge, playing like he’s trying to prove something. When his fourth three-pointer sinks in, he cuts his gaze to Kagami who gives him a smirk in return. It irritates him. Even Akashi has told him that Kagami is simply another Aomine but Midorima had never felt such animosity with his former teammate. He acknowledges Kagami’s skill, deemed him worthy enough to become a rival but there’s something more. Something he can’t quite put into words.

Kuroko steals the ball from Shutoku and passes to Kagami but Takao intercepts it. Takao finds a split second to send Kagami a smug grin before whipping around and driving the ball towards his ace.

“Shin-chan!”

The ball slams into his palms and Midorima feels his sense of purpose renewed. He aims and shoots, perfect form ingrained in muscle memory. The Iron Heart is too late in attempting to block this attack.

Takao comes up to Midorima as the ball sails for the hoop, offering a grin and fist. “Nice shooting!”

The gesture is familiar and at the same time foreign. It gives Midorima the chills when he bumps his fist with Takao’s. A small smile manages to slip through. “Naturally.”

The net swings, releasing the ball and earning them another three points.

Kuroko dries his face with the sweat band around his wrist, watching the exchange and feeling unnerved. Kagami halts beside him as the rest of Seirin get into their offensive positions.

Kagami doesn’t seem surprised by the display and he doesn’t seem vexed at all that Takao had stolen the ball from them earlier either. He even looks eager.

As they join the team’s strategic play, Kuroko wonders about the other things Shutoku’s shadow might be stealing.

••••••••••••

Out of habit, Takao wakes up at five-thirty on the dot. On normal school days he’d wash his face, go down for breakfast and then have a shower. Once he’s dressed, he’d hop on his bike and make his way to Midorima’s where the man and his cart will be waiting. They’ll stop by the usual antiques store if the day’s lucky item isn’t already on hand.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, stretching out his back and arms as he sits up. Given the size of the varsity team, five to six people are assigned to each room. Takao shares this one with Midorima and three other second-years, none of whom are awake yet. He takes a moment to watch his partner. Even in sleep, there is a certain rigidity to Midorima’s features; as though a good night’s rest is an art to be perfected.

And speaking of rigid things…

Takao bites his bottom lip, well aware of his body’s natural reaction to his own sweet dreams, fueled further by having their protagonist in the futon right beside his. Long lashes are fanned over smooth skin that looks soft to the touch. Takao very badly wants to do so but he resists; he’s not worthy. Even when he’s prone in sleep, Midorima is untouchable as ever. So Takao slips out quietly, tiptoeing to the bathroom where he can take care of his business in peace.

He tucks himself back into his shorts, exiting the stall with as much dignity as a man who’d just jerked off to his best friend can. He’s washing his hands at the sink when the door cracks open and someone peeks in. In the back of his mind, Takao wonders if this is supposed to be a sign or something.

“You could’ve been a little quieter,” Kagami grouses, setting his cup and toothbrush one sink away from Takao. He fills the cup and goes on with his morning routine.

Apparently, his shame left him to elope with his dignity. Takao finds a leer stretching his lips. “Waiting on me?”

“Shaffup,” Kagami says, brushing his teeth. Accidentally walking in on that sort of thing happened a lot back when he was in America; it’s not exactly surprising.

Takao shrugs. He splashes water on his face, raking wet hands through his hair to keep his bangs at bay. “What’re you doing up so early?”

Spitting out his gargle, Kagami rinses one more time before answering. “I dunno. I just woke up and figured might as well do a little jogging. You wanna come?”

 _I just did_ , Takao’s mind supplies but he holds that thought and instead goes with, “Sure.”

The owner of the inn is outside, sweeping at fallen leaves. They greet the old man good morning before going on their way, already changed into running shoes.

It’s been a long time since Takao has been to the beach and he savors the salty air that wraps around him. Sunlight is unobtrusive at the early hours, rising from the sea and dispelling the cold. They run the length of the coastline in an even rhythm that gets his blood circulating properly. At the end of the run, they stop by a convenience store. Kagami tells him he took innumerable trips to the place last year to get drinks for everyone while they had their practice game.

As it happens, Takao finds money in his pockets. He could almost hear his mother complaining how he needs to store his finances properly and not forget them wherever. So far, Takao has rediscovered bills tucked in his jackets, pencil case, and even the pages of his comics. He browses the aisles and smiles when he finds a section of red bean soup drinks.

Kagami crinkles his nose at the chilled can Takao brings to the counter. “Soup?”

“It’s Shin-chan’s favorite.”

By the time they return to the inn, most of their teams have already woken up. They part ways and Takao heads to the kitchen to store his purchase in the refrigerator. He helps set the table and that’s where Midorima finds him.

“You’ve gone somewhere,” Midorima starts. Seeing the sweat drying on Takao’s skin, his brows furrow a little but he makes no comment.

“Just did a bit of running,” Takao explains. “You didn’t oversleep, did you?”

“Of course not.” Midorima pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I woke up in time for Oha-Asa’s broadcast.”

“Really? So how are Cancers faring today?”

“Dismal.”

Takao pauses in the middle of arranging cups and bowls to take a good look at Midorima. There’s a nervous edge that highlights his unnatural pallor. “You got your lucky item, right?”

Midorima purses his lips. “I drank the last of it before bed last night.”

Sitting back, Takao has to wonders if Scorpios are topping the charts for the day but dares not ask in the face of Midorima’s despair. “Red bean soup? That’s surprisingly easy.”

“To be precise, Oha-Asa suggested to have my comfort food on hand.” Midorima says that like it’s going to be his last meal. “I have already checked the vending machines on site and they don’t have it. We’d have to go out and buy one now.”

The urgency in Midorima’s tone is as amusing as it is endearing to Takao. He wants to throw his arms around the teen and kiss him like a mother would her precious child. There’s inexplicable calm in his psyche when he pats Midorima’s shoulder (the most contact he could allow himself) and tells him not to worry. “Lucky for you, I found a convi while I was running the beach strip.”

“Really? How far is it?” Midorima perks up. Takao could almost imagine sparkles in those enlivened green eyes.

“Hehe, right this way.” Takao stands, leaving the table setting to the first years and leading Midorima into the kitchens. Shutoku’s ace is understandably confused when he produces the chilled drink from the refrigerator.

Taped fingers handle the can as though it’s some holy grail. Midorima stares at his partner like he’d just revealed the answers to the universe.

“Aren’t I awesome?” Takao beams. “I would’ve bought more but I didn’t have my wallet with me. We could go back later–”

“No, this is fine.” Midorima interrupts. “Thank you.”

At that moment, Takao could die happy.

••••••••••••

Jenrya barks orders as Nakatani crosses his arms and assesses his team. With three of his starting five having graduated the previous year, it was nothing short of a miracle that they’ve held up through the Inter-High and claimed the coveted title from their most formidable opponent in the past season. In a way, having a slew of never-before-seen players, each with their own set of enviable skills, has been the key to their success. They won’t be having that advantage in the coming Winter Cup, however, so it would be wise to train his players to develop their playing style further.

They’re on their last set of sophomore sprinters and Takao is more spirited than usual. He touches down on the end of the court and quick feet carry him to the starting line in a mere six seconds. Kinoshita hits the stop clock and gives him his time, the two of them high-fiving at the amazing record.

After the individual workouts comes the team practice. They’re split into groups of three with the starting players distributed among them. The eight teams are further divided into two blocks to decide which side of the court they’ll be playing. Midorima’s team is part of the first match-up for the A-Block. Takao watches him avidly from the sidelines of the B-Block court.

Midorima has gotten better at socializing. People aren’t as wary of him and there’s a lot of trust invested in him as the team’s ace. If nothing, he has the whole team’s respect and that in itself goes a long way. His practice team consists of a third year and a second year. Even with the other team’s strong defense, Midorima’s shooting is unstoppable.

Takao’s team isn’t as lucky. His teammates are decent shooters but leave a lot to be desired. They manage to scrape through the first round by a two-point lead but they’re overwhelmed by Jenrya’s team in the semifinals.

The final match-up is between their captain and their ace. It’s a hardwon game but by virtue of a well-executed free-throw, Midorima’s team secures the top spot, winning themselves an exemption in cleaning duties for the next day.

“Looks like your luck has turned around,” Takao pipes up as Midorima takes to the bench beside him.

Midorima indulges him with a smile. “It has.”

••••••••••••

Since Shutoku has taken the court all morning, Seirin makes use of it the entire afternoon. Their final practice match is scheduled for the next day, the last day of the training camp.

Kiyoshi claps his hands to garner the team’s attention before Riko explains the exercise regimen she had come up with for each of them using the data gathered from the previous days of camp.

With Kagami’s jumping prowess having literally reached unimaginable heights, he’s tasked with balancing that strength with aerial ball handling. He works on passes and receives with Izuki, Fukuda, and Furihata, whose game record is on a steady increase. Under the hoop, Hyuga coaches Kuroko on better shooting techniques with Kawahara and Mitobe on defense. Kiyoshi, Tsuchida, and Koganei focus on the first years, imparting knowledge on the famous run-and-gun play that Seirin has become known for.

Riko ends practice at five, giving them enough time to rest before dinner. The team files out of the gym, complaining about aching muscles and agreeing on the benefits of power naps.

On a corner of the court, a lone man remains sprawled on his back, towel draped over his face. Kagami squints up at the ceiling lights, vision finding focus on the face that’s grinning cheekily at him.

“I just had the best day ever, Tai-chan!”

“Ugh.” Kagami swats Takao’s hand away and the towel flops back over his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I just _had_ to tell someone or else I’d explode.” Takao squats down beside Seirin’s ace. “Remember the drink I brought this morning? Turns out it was Shin-chan’s lucky item! And because I acquired it for him, he was especially nice to me today~”

“Lucky item?” Kagami scoffs, pulling the cover from his face to give Takao an incredulous look. “It’s surprisingly not big and obnoxious.”

Takao sticks his tongue out.

“You weren’t spying on our practice now, were you?” Kagami asks.

“What would be the point when we’re going to face off tomorrow anyway?” Takao cocks his head, grinning. “Be prepared to be annihilated.” Their score is tied at one-all.

Scoffing, Kagami sits up. “Yeah, whatever. You can’t even dunk.”

“Is that a challenge?” Takao leans in.

The quiet gymnasium is interrupted by the squeak of rubber soles and the purposeful thump of the basketball on court. Kagami plays defense to Takao’s attempt to prove that he can dunk. He stares down Shutoku’s point guard with a smirk. “Any time now.”

“It’s called strategizing,” Takao replies, standing still as he dribbles with his right hand. He goes for a drive but Kagami sticks to him, not letting him get into form. Takao doesn’t give up though; it’s not in his vocabulary to quit. Takao feels like he can do anything right then and so he does.

Kagami backs away when Takao charges in spite of his block, he goes for a steal but Takao has predicted that move. His opponent swiftly turns heel and goes around him. Kagami stands back, feeling a misplaced sense of pride at being outwitted.

Recklessness will be one way to put it but Takao has been running on endorphins all day and he’s never felt so free. He puts everything into that jump, slamming the ball in and gripping the hoop with white knuckles. He hangs over Kagami as the ball drops, practically radiant with the lights shining down on him.

“Stop looking so happy, it’s obscene.”

“Obscene is listening in to a guy jerking off in the bathroom.”

Kagami sputters. “I was NOT!”

Swinging a little, Takao calculates the distance if he falls to the ground. Then he thinks of a better idea. “Catch me.”

Takao’s happiness – the insanity – must be infectious because Kagami doesn’t hesitate in opening his arms.

As with all poorly thought-out plans, their execution fails entirely… but at least they didn’t break any bones. Neither of them is exactly thrilled at the thought of explaining any injury to their respective coaches.

Heaped on top of Seirin’s ace, Takao laughs until tears collect at the corner of his eyes. “Oh my god, I’ve caught the stupid!”

“That’s my line!” Kagami interjects, snickering. Their laughter combines and fills the gymnasium, sweat-sheened bodies shaking with the hysterics.

Wiping at his eyes, Takao works on steadying his breaths. He pushes himself off Kagami and lies on the court beside him, chuckling to himself at the definitive romcom-quality of that moment. One of his ex-girlfriends was a big fan of those and Takao has to admit he’s collected quite the array of admittedly cheesy lines and dating tips. His face muscles are hurting by the time he calms down enough. His next words come in a sigh. “You cannot imagine how happy I am that you’re here, Tai-chan…”

By this point, Kagami has surrendered to the nickname. He turns to Takao, propping himself up on elbow to look down at the Shutoku player.

A silhouette retreats from the half-open gymnasium doors, tight-lipped and with an even tighter grip around the can of lukewarm red bean soup. Midorima doesn’t need to hear any further. He walks back to the inn proper in silence, thoughts buzzing as a vice clamps over his chest. It’s not until he walks into his room that it finally hits home.

“Midorima… Are you okay?” Ueda asks, sounding half-afraid to do so. “D’you need to lie down?”

“I’m fine,” he replies in what he presumes is his usual indifference.

“I don’t think you are,” Kinoshita protests, putting down the manga he’s been reading.

Teammates look after each other on and off the court is what Takao always tells him when the shorter teen goes out of his way to do things for Midorima. The memory of those times brings a bitter taste to his tongue now and Midorima tries not to openly grimace. “I just over-practiced.” A filthy lie. He knows how detrimental that could be and Takao insists on regulating his solo shooting every time but… Takao… Takao is sprawled over Kagami, too-close for casual friends… Kagami leaning over Takao who’s lying on the court, about to say, to do something…

His two roommates look at each other, concerned. Ueda speaks up, “…You’re shaking all over, Midorima, and…” He bites his lip, nodding at Kinoshita to finish his statement.

“You look like you’re about to cry.”

But Midorima doesn’t. What’s left of his wounded pride doesn’t allow it.


	5. Broken mirrors give false relfections

Riko doesn’t feel quite right about their win. Even as the bus takes them home, her thoughts are confined within the four walls of the gymnasium. Shutoku’s players were in top condition but their game play lacked something big, something crucial. Analyzing these sorts of things are her forte but she can’t quite put her finger on it at the moment. What’s more, even her players can tell that their winning game was a bust.

Kagami is missing his satisfied grin, looking uncharacteristically pensive as he stares out the window. Beside him, Kuroko’s eyes look a bit deader than usual.

Their conversation on the matter was over in three lines.

“Hey, what’s wrong with Midorima?” Kagami asks while storing Kuroko’s luggage in the bus compartment – the last one for their group.

“I don’t know, Kagami-kun. By the looks of it, neither does his team.” Kuroko looks Kagami in the eyes, trying to read beyond the tough-guy exterior. “It is most disconcerting.”

Kagami nods in agreement. “Takao is worrying his head off, the poor guy.”

To that, Kuroko only hums. The Shutoku point guard was certainly distracted during their game, allowing Kuroko a wide leeway for his drives and passes, practically handing the win over to Seirin. If he is to be honest, it looked like Midorima had reverted back to how he was two years ago at the height of Teikou’s glory days. It’s no wonder that Takao has been thrown into a loop – everyone had moved on to better lives and, ideally, nobody should’ve relapsed. But for some reason Midorima did and, despite not getting along splendidly with him, Kuroko is worried about what this could mean.

Sometime later, Kagami falls asleep, still propped up against the window, brows furrowed. Kuroko watches the play of light over tan skin, wondering how warm it would feel if he was given permission to touch. Their arms are pressed between their seats and Kuroko could lay his head on Kagami’s shoulder if he just leaned a little closer. He wants to, after such a tiring couple of days – he wants to listen and feel the way they would breathe, synchronized, the way their very psyches fit together, drawn to his true light’s aura as he is.

Kagami kept in pace with Midorima’s single-minded attacks, scoring point-for-point until the last few seconds where he dunked right over Midorima’s head – a red phoenix soaring over green flames. Midorima had fallen as an after-effect of the dunk, refusing the hand Kagami offered him. Right now, Kagami is wearing the same expression as he did then – confusion with a mix of worry.

Oh, the things Kuroko is willing to do if he knows for sure that it will help.

••••••••••••

The fall semester starts and their minds are momentarily distracted with school work. There are projects and tests that chip off their recollections of the incident at training camp.

Midorima has profusely apologized to the coach and the entire team after the game, willingly surrendering his three special requests per day for the following week. He’d remained quiet the entire way home and didn’t reply to any of Takao’s increasingly concerned messages the whole weekend.

Envy is a foreign concept to him, at least in the sense that he is the one experiencing it. Midorima is well-aware of the general public’s perception on him, his skill, and his epithet of being the Generation of Miracle’s number one shooter. Jealousy has always been directed at him and he finds it easy to deflect until that night when it seeped into his very veins. This sort of resentment is a poison that came from within.

Takao is playful and Kagami isn’t the smartest guy around – juvenile, being a common factor between them. So, yes, their friendship shouldn’t be surprising. Birds of a feather, as the saying goes…

Midorima had gone looking for Takao that night bearing a brilliant idea. He would transfer his cleaning free-pass for the last day of training camp to Takao; a fair trade for the lucky item Takao had procured for him. He was brimming with excitement and it took all his self-restraint to keep up appearances. It was suspicious enough that he was asking his teammates about his partner’s whereabouts when it was usually the other way around. His sources led him to the gym – unoccupied, he assumed, having passed the Seirin team on his way there – and how he wished people had some decency to close their doors.

Initial shock engaged his self-preservation instincts and he retreated from the site. He ignored Takao’s curious stares throughout dinner – no doubt that Takao had heard about his god-awful state from their roommates – and purposely faced the wall as he slept.

The morning of their final practice match, Midorima was reluctant to step foot inside the gym. It was only by the virtue of Takao’s quiet question – the thousandth one he’d received since last night, asking if he’s alright – that Midorima forced himself to take the final step. Maybe he was overreacting to nothing, but the sting of betrayal has paralyzed the rational part of his thinking.

In the end, what hurt the most is the unwavering trust Takao has shown him. The guy has no idea, no clue that he is the root of all this pain but he still stood by his ace, his light. Midorima only has himself to blame.

••••••••••••

These days, Takao doesn’t complain when he loses at rock-paper-scissors. He dutifully hauls Midorima’s lucky item onto the rickshaw and pedals them through the busy streets of Tokyo. He remains chatty even though it’s like talking to a brick wall. His one condolence is that Midorima isn’t completely ignoring him.

It blows his mind how everything turned a complete one-eighty in the span of – what, one hour?

Seeing Midorima revert to his self-centered play honestly scared Takao but he could do nothing except keep playing his best. If that was how their ace played his game, then it was his duty to support it. Of course, their loss was a slap to the face.

Takao trains harder, pushes his body further. Midorima can’t be the only one to blame for their poor performance. One more slip-up like that and they’ll be out of the Winter Cup without even knowing it. He works hard for his team, for himself, for the fervent wish that Midorima would rely on him again. He’d _earned_ the prestige of being the ace’s shadow and he’ll win it over and over again if he has to.

Gradually, Midorima loses the clipped tone he’d adapted as a defense mechanism. Weeks fly by before he lets the smallest of smiles show when he thinks Takao has turned his attention elsewhere after cracking one of his jokes. They’re small victories, but victories none the less.

One lunch period after their winter break, Midorima sets down a jar of pickled vegetables on the floor beside Takao. His parents had gone to Korea on a business trip and they remembered that he has this friend who likes kimchi, he explains with a push of his glasses. Takao’s smile can hardly contain his relief; he takes the item for the truce that it is.

Having won the Inter-High, Shutoku is an automatic contender for the Winter Cup. It’s not surprising that the rest of the Generation of Miracles’ schools also make it to the competition; there’s a general consensus among sports fans that the finalists and winners will merely rotate among them until they all graduate. Then Japan will brace itself for the collegiate competitions.

••••••••••••

“You’re terrible,” Midorima says, bland but not cruel.

Takao scowls, arms crossed as he looks up from worksheets between them. “Well, _so_ - _rry_.” English is one hell of a language and Takao can’t find the will to learn a third one when his mother is still insisting that he perfect his spoken Korean; that’s what happens when your parent comes from mixed descent.

Midorima gathers the papers and reference books that lay open on the table, turning pages to show his study partner where he’d gone wrong.

“Noo~ Forget that!” Takao moans, upper body slumping over the kotatsu, effectively halting Midorima’s actions. “Let’s do something else, Shin-chan!” It’s getting late but he doesn’t want to go home just yet.

Red pen in hand, Midorima raises a brow at Takao. “Like what? We’re not totally exempted from turning in our assignments, Takao. Most of these are due next Friday.”

Blowing at the strands of hair falling into his eyes, Takao looks over at the orange sitting at the corner of the table. It’s bigger than his fist and it’s Midorima’s lucky item for the day. More than once, Takao has entertained the thought of peeling it and eating the juicy fruit within. “I’m hungry.”

“For the last time, you are not allowed to eat the orange,” Midorima hisses, though it is with little heat. He puts a hand on the fruit in case Takao tries anything. “If you want, I’ll call on the maid to cook something.”

Maybe it’s the amount of time he’s spent with Midorima that such statements don’t sound as pompous as the way rich people on TV say it. Takao cushions his head with one arm, waving his other hand limply in the air. “Nah, that’s okay. I just feel so comfy right here, I wanna take a nap.” At Midorima’s responding frown, Takao inclines his head in question. “What? Like you’ve never fallen asleep under a kotatsu before?” The wintry weather is perfect for it.

“… I used to do it a lot when I was younger but I have… outgrown… that phase,” Midorima admits, looking all prim and proper yet oddly embarrassed.

Takao feeds that thought to his imagination and… “Your feet stuck out,” he blurts into the warning silence.

“I had a growth spurt,” Midorima states curtly.

Mental images of a disgruntled Midorima lying under the heated table with his toes wiggling out in the cold has Takao chuckling. “Aw, but that’s adorable~”

“Shut it.”

“C’mere.”

“Excuse me?”

Takao pulls up the blanket and pats the space beside him. “I bet if you curled up a little, you can still enjoy kotatsu naps.”

Narrowing his eyes, Midorima creates a list of why going over there would be a bad idea. He pins Takao with his most incredulous expression but it does nothing to dispel the encouraging smile directed at him. “Fine.”

The space under the table barely contains the both of them. Takao keeps his limbs as close to his body as possible to give way for Midorima’s more… extensive… appendages. They face each other, the kotatsu blanket covering everything from the neck below.

“Isn’t this nice?” Takao grins.

“Not particularly,” is Midorima’s dry response.

“But it’s so warm~ You’d let me sleep awhile, wouldn’t you, Shin-chan?”

They _did_ just beat Kaijo for the semifinals spot that afternoon. It was an exhausting match with Kise utilizing his perfect copy but a duplicate can never outshine the original; Takao’s playmaking drew out everyone’s full potential with extensive use of his Hawk’s Eye. With that win, the final four contenders have been confirmed: Rakuzan, Seirin, Yosen, and Shutoku. They are looking forward to a match versus Yosen on the weekend.

It was Takao’s idea to get a bit of studying done despite their already busy day; his way of using up the excess adrenalin from the game.

Midorima shows his assent by pulling off his glasses and setting them on the table. “Five minutes. Then we go back to English.”

“Make it ten,” Takao bargains, snuggling a little closer to the heater.

“Why?”

Takao’s smile is lax and he’s obviously half-way asleep. “’Coz that’s my jersey number.”

Midorima could only sigh at the explanation but allows it anyway. Taped fingers curl into a fist over his chest. He watches the minute changes in Takao’s face – defined lines softening in his slumber, lips parted by even breaths, curious silvery eyes hidden, exhaustion of the mind and body taking its toll. He can’t remember closing his eyes but he remembers opening them to find Takao pressed up against him with a different kind of heat simmering under the kotatsu.

Night has sufficiently blanketed the outside world and all is quiet save for the sound of their breathing. Up close, Midorima can feel the rhythmic heartbeats, surprised with their calm pace in contrast to such a hyper personality. Even without his glasses, he finds residual soap on Takao’s skin from the post-game shower, miniscule crumbs surround the other teen’s mouth from the granola bar he’d eaten on the bus, there’s a fallen eyelash resting beside dotted ink marks from their study session. Midorima knows all these irrelevant details and he craves for the important facts – if Takao would object to Midorima’s touch, whether he’d join Midorima on a day out which does not involve the search for lucky items, how he’d react if Midorima tells him about –

“Mm, Shin-chan…”

Takao’s eyes are still closed but Midorima figures the guy must’ve sensed something; he’s perceptive like that. Any second now, Takao is bound to wake and Midorima doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act. They’re entangled beyond what Midorima can hope to undo without disturbing the shorter teen’s sleep. Escape proves futile when Takao’s hands find the front of his shirt under the kotatsu.

“Takao?”

The point guard hums upon hearing his name but remains apparently asleep. He does, however, move closer to the voice, subconsciously drawn in. His movements are blocked by a foreign body that he decides is harmless, a pressure that unintentionally lines with his groin and _oh, there we go_. Takao murmurs a name smothered in a low moan and he makes another push of the hips.

Heated palms are groping over his chest and Midorima is stricken, at a loss on how he’s supposed to deal with this development. Objectively, he knows that Takao’s state is a product of the body’s natural reaction to heat and the play of hormones. He isn’t entirely unacquainted with the phenomenon but it still throws him. This is a side of Takao that he isn’t familiar with, one that he is both curious and afraid of. They may be compatible from star sign to blood type but sexual chemistry is also a major factor in lasting relationships and –

“Takao.”

A vice grip on both his hands snaps Takao out of his sleep. He’s confused for the first few seconds until he deciphers Midorima’s somber expression. If the kotatsu wasn’t over them, he’s pretty sure he would’ve jumped ten feet into the air. Sleeping so close to Midorima, no wonder he was having such a happy dream but now he has to face reality and reality is nowhere as sweet. Takao scrambles away but Midorima (and the constraints of their sleeping place) doesn’t let him get very far. At the very least he manages to get his traitorous private regions at a safe distance. _Ah, damn, this is so embarrassing_ , Takao whines in the confines of his mind. “That was a long ten minutes, eheh.”

Typical. Midorima releases Takao’s hands and pulls himself out from under the table; the other teen follows suit but keeps his lap covered by the blanket. Putting on his glasses, Midorima manages a cordial tone. “It’s nearly dinner time. Would you like to–”

“Maybe next time,” Takao interrupts, his usual smile not making it to his eyes. “’Sides, it’s my turn to do the dishes at home.” Unable to look at Midorima, he defers his gaze to the clock hanging on the wall. If he takes a short cut, he’ll only be five minutes late for dinner.

Midorima nods, letting Takao take the easy way out. “I see. Then let’s clean up.”

Stashing everything into his bag, Takao is antsy to get as far away from his partner as possible. Passing by the study, Takao excuses himself to Midorima’s parents and then makes quick work of putting on his shoes at the front door. He bids Midorima goodnight and hops on his bike, pedaling like there’s no tomorrow.

Once Takao is gone, Midorima has dinner with his parents who lament that his friend couldn’t stay over. They ask him about the game, giving perfunctory congratulations at hearing about their victory.

••••••••••••

Out on the streets of Tokyo, Takao stops by the 24-hour convenience store at the end of his street. His heart is racing for a reason that has less to do with his cycling cadence and more with the fact that has done something unspeakable to his best friend, never mind that he did it in his sleep; actually, that fact just makes it worse. “Shit,” Takao curses, wiping at his eyes. Just when everything is going right, he has to fuck it up again.

His face feels hot as he whips out his phone, scrolling through his contacts list until he finds the right person. Thumb hovering over the call button, Takao double-thinks his decision. Does he really want to involve other people in this mess?

No, should’ve been his immediate answer but a voice in his head echoes words from the not-so-distant past.

_Just call me, alright? If shit hits the fan or whatever. You freaking asked for my number, right? Put it to some good use._

That time, he had jokingly replied with “Wow, you must be really desperate” and got a smirk in return but now he finds the situation to be the complete opposite. He’s the desperate one.

••••••••••••

In accordance with the big game scheduled over the weekend, Nakatani drives them late on Friday, squeezing all final preparations into team drills. Even Midorima gets dissuaded from his usual after-practice regimen in order to ensure his best condition for Sunday. Saturday is meant to be their day off.

Depositing an evergreen bonsai in the cart, Midorima catches Takao’s hand before their deciding rock-paper-scissors game. “You’ve been awkward around me all day,” he states, leaving no room for argument. “If this is about yesterday, then know that I have resolved to not think about it.” When Takao’s jaw drops, he continues with enough finesse for the both of them. “I understand that it’s a physiological reaction and do not take it as a point against your character.”

Filtered through Takao’s mind, Midorima’s point stands clear – he does not reciprocate. He’s glad that the scarf he’s wearing covers most of his sorry attempt at a smile. “Got it, Shin-chan.” He doesn’t even try to win and takes on his yoke without breaking pace. He delivers Midorima home and dislodges the cart, having no intention of prolonging his stay when taped fingers grab him by the elbow.

Midorima is scary when he’s all focused like that. “Are we alright?”

Takao freezes, getting a split-second urge to say ‘No’ and just spill everything right then and there but he steels himself and replies with a nod. “Of course, we are. I’ll see you on Sunday,” he waves as he kicks off again, not waiting for any reply.


	6. Give a little, get a lot

Kagami pulls off his hood as he enters the shop. His watch tells him he’s fifteen minutes early. Not wanting to look suspicious, he orders some coffee and donuts, taking his tray to an empty table by the window so he could spot Takao’s arrival. He checks his phone, making sure that he didn’t miss any messages. Takao had been oddly quiet after confirming the place and time of their meet-up yesterday.

He’s halfway through his stack of donuts when a figure slides onto bench opposite him. Kagami takes his eyes off the window, wondering how he’d missed Takao, then chokes at seeing who has actually joined him.

“Hey, Taiga,” Himuro greets, steeping his fingers together and flashing a disarming smile. “Waiting on a date?”

“Bro – Tatsuya,” Kagami corrects himself, catching the warning glint in the older teen’s visible eye. “What’re you doing here?” He picks up his phone and checks the calendar to make sure he hasn’t slept through Saturday and it’s actually Sunday with the semifinals about to start – it isn’t.

“I’m waiting on a date,” Himuro says. “Just like you. So why don’t we wait together?” He sends a quick message on his phone then turns his attention back to Kagami. “Where’s Kuroko-kun?”

Kagami grudgingly lets Himuro take one of his donuts, tone bitter when he speaks. “He has shooting practice with Aomine.”

Blinking, Himuro swallows the bite of pastry before replying. “That’s nice… Does Kuroko-kun know you’re seeing other people behind his back?”

“For the last time, Tatsuya, I am _not_ dating Kuroko.” Kagami crosses his arms to punctuate that statement.

“Not yet, anyway,” a third voice supplies, followed by its owner sliding into the bench beside Kagami. “Hey.” Takao waves at Himuro. This is what he gets for trusting public transport instead of his bike. He took one look at it this morning and decided he doesn’t need any more reminders of his broken connection with Midorima today.

“Shutoku’s Takao,” Himuro acknowledges. “Odd to find the Hawk’s Eye flying solo.” He tilts his head towards Kagami in question. “So when Kuroko-kun and Midorima-kun aren’t around, you two get together? That’s quite an arrangement.”

“It’s not like that!” Kagami and Takao deny in unison.

“Oh?” Himuro takes another bite of pastry. “Because meeting in a coffee shop totally spells out date.”

“Don’t be silly.” Takao takes a donut from Kagami’s stack, using it to point at Himuro. “This is a secret meeting.”

“Really?” Himuro’s tone makes it clear that he’s not buying Takao’s words.

“It is?” Takao steps on Kagami’s foot under the table. “I mean, yeah, it is. Totally.”

“It’s a secret meeting of the Generation of Miracles’ boyfriends,” Takao states shamelessly. “Or wannabe boyfriends, as it stands.”

Himuro narrows his eyes at them. “So who else is coming?”

Kagami defers to Takao, not knowing how to carry the conversation. For his part, Takao thanks his lucky stars that he’s gifted with quick wit and interpersonal charisma. And the Hawk’s Eye, too, of course.

“As a matter of fact,” Takao starts, pulling out his phone for effect. “One of our members is running late, but let me just call him.”

A generic incoming call tone plays in front of the cash register and the teen hands over his payment for the cashier to compute while he gets to his phone. “H-Hello?”

Takao grins, peering out of the cubicle so that he can be seen. “Ryou-chan, I told you meeting starts at two, right?”

Over at the counter, Touou’s Sakurai starts to panic. “W-What? I’m sorry?” He exits the line with a cold cup of latte in hand.

“That’s okay, I can see you. We’re in the booth by the window.” Takao waves his hand to get Sakurai’s attention. “Come on.” He ends the call and sits back, smirking at Himuro and Kagami, the latter of which is gaping at him.

Himuro actually looks impressed for a second. He scoots over to give Sakurai a seat.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sakurai starts, stuffing a handful of shopping bags under the table. “I was running errands for Wakamatsu-senpai and Momoi-san–”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Takao assures him. “Glad you could make it.”

“We’re missing Kaijou and Rakuzan,” Himuro points out, secretly amused.

As he says this, the door chime rings and a group of collegians amble in, chattering loudly about some movie presentation and panel discussion at the fifth floor convention hall.

Takao cannot actually believe how much favor fate is bestowing on him. Maybe he’s been carrying Scorpio’s lucky item for the day unknowingly and that’s why things are going so smooth but he has no time to wonder which of his belongings fall under the category. Without losing a beat, he answers, “Well, Reo-chan hasn’t returned any of my calls since we beat Rakuzan at the Inter-High but good news is that the Kaijou rep just arrived.” Turning around his seat, Takao shouts, “Hey, Yuki-chan!”

From the group of students, a dark-haired teen stops and causes some of his peers to crash into him. Cringing, Kasamatsu Yukio excuses himself and marches out from the throng, right towards Takao who’s grinning unapologetically.

“Come here and we can start the meeting.” Takao mentally gives himself a pat on the back.

Kasamatsu stops at the head of the table, glowering at Shutoku’s point guard. “I have no idea what–” He sees the rest of the table and stops, recognizing the other occupants. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s the secret Miracle Boyfriends meeting,” Kagami says, half-snickering. “Grab a seat.”

Takao follows that up with, “We would’ve had Kise-chi as moderator but, you know, even if he’s a Boyfriend, he’s a Miracle too… Thank goodness you’re here!”

“Damn that Kise.” Slapping a hand over his face, Kasamatsu pulls over an empty seat. He puts both fists on the table all business-like and addresses the group in a deadly undertone. “Look it was one kiss. It happened one freaking time with alcohol involved and that’s it. Nothing follows.”

The whole table goes quiet.

“What?” Kasamatsu demands at the four people staring at him.

Takao looks pretty pleased with himself. This isn’t what he came for – and it’s actually not far from what he’s wanted to accomplish this afternoon but – group therapy might be exactly what he needs; no offense to Kagami. “Well that officially puts this meeting to a start. Who’s next?” His gaze moves to Sakurai, sitting on Kasamatsu’s right.

Meeting Takao’s gaze, Sakurai fumbles with putting the straw through his cup of latte. “Um, w-what exactly are we supposed to say?”

“Just whatever’s on your mind,” Kagami encourages, getting the hang of things. “Whatever dirt you have on Aomine, we’re here to listen.”

“But you said ‘boyfriend’,” Sakurai points out. “And I’m… I’m not…?”

Kagami and Takao share a look. Come to think of it, the guy is more Aomine’s lackey than anything else…

“I mean, Aomine-san likes to fool around but we’re not actually official,” Sakurai continues, staring at the happy mascot printed on the plastic cup. “I know he’s seeing Kise-san… mainly... and I know that Aomine-san isn’t after anything more than physical gratification.”

Himuro stares at the teen beside him, thinking he’d heard a sniffle somewhere but Sakurai is impervious to the others’ staring, lost in his own words.

“But, um, Kanagawa isn’t as accessible as, say, the third floor custodian closet so…” He wipes off the water droplet that’s running down the side of his drink. “We kind of have this thing… every now and then…”

Kagami and Takao resume staring at each other, wide-eyed now at realizing the can of worms they’ve opened. Personally, Kagami is of the opinion that the less he knows of his rival’s personal life, the better but there’s no turning back now.

Kasamatsu lets out a low whistle. “You poor soul.”

“E-Eh?!” Sakurai turns a fearful look at Kaijou’s ex-captain.

“Have you tried suggesting a threesome?” Himuro speaks up.

“Tatsuya!” Kagami is scandalized, nearly spilling his coffee with the hard slap he’d dealt the table at the suggestion.

Himuro shrugs. “It seems logical.”

“And Kise-chi’s pretty much open to everything anyway,” Takao muses, to which Kasamatsu nods in agreement.

“True.”

A beat of silence follows where a realization occurs to the group.

Takao bites his bottom lip, surprised at how easy he’s breathing, how relaxing it is to have casual conversation like this. Sure he has friends at Shutoku and there’s no doubt that they will listen to his griping but this is different. In this space they’ve created, Takao feels like he would be understood and not just heard.

“Is it my turn?” Himuro asks, a dainty smile pulling on thin lips.

Kagami crinkles his nose. “Ew, I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.” The thought of it is somehow more revolting than hearing about Aomine’s.

“Just because you’re not getting any, Taiga, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be celibate,” Himuro tells him in a tone that’s just the right shade of condescending.

“I hear you,” Takao agrees. “But hold that thought. I’m just gonna get me a drink, anyone else wants anything?”

Kasamatsu stands to let Takao pass. “If this is going to take a while, I have to let my blockmates know that I’m, er, occupied…”

“More donuts?” Takao asks Kagami, getting an affirmative. “Himuro?”

“Just a coffee, thank you.” Himuro reaches for his wallet but Takao dissuades him.

“My treat.”

Kagami makes to follow Takao. “You need help with carrying the stuff?”

“I’ll be fine,” Takao says with a wave. “Be a proper host and entertain our guests. I’ll be just a minute. Or five.” He reiterates once he sees the queue.

Sakurai sips at his iced latte. Beside him, Himuro pensively watches as Kagami cranes his neck to see Takao line up.

Once they have their food and drinks, everyone settles down again and Takao grabs the opportunity to take a group selfie. After the flash fades Kasamatsu gives Takao a smack on the shoulder. “That’s for dragging me into this.”

Grinning, Takao hands out the plate of donuts. “So where were we?”

“I’m actually waiting for Atsushi,” Himuro says, cooling his coffee with gentle blows. “We’re supposed to go on a date.”

“Well aren’t you awfully relaxed,” Takao comments, dipping a piece of donut into his hot chocolate. “Considering you’ll be facing us at the semifinals tomorrow.”

“Oh, you know,” Himuro replies airily. “There’s this sweets company that’s going to unveil a line of limited edition chocolates and Atsushi… Well, he knows his priorities.”

“So you’re the doting kind of boyfriend,” Kasamatsu surmises.

“Whatever made you say that?” There’s that disarming smile again. “Atsushi has been playing hard all season. It’s only fair that he gets a reward.”

“So where is this giant?” Kagami asks.

“Late. As always.”

Kagami gets the odd feeling that Himuro isn’t as calm as he appears to be. The guy barely put any sugar in his coffee and he knows how much of a not-so-secret sweet-tooth Himuro is.

“Kagami-san? It’s your turn.” For once, Sakurai manages not to sound apologetic or even intimidated. In fact, he sounds very much invested in the conversation. While Takao had been queuing for their snacks, Himuro got him to talk more about the nature of his relationship with Touou’s ace while Kagami was forced to listen in with a morbid sense of fascination. Not many people are open-minded about having multiple partners but (having lived in a so-called liberated country) Himuro and Kagami are surprisingly okay with the concept though they stressed that since Aomine was doing it without Kise’s knowledge, it definitely counts as cheating. At which point Himuro suggested the threesome again and Kagami promptly kicked him under the table.

Scratching his head at Sakurai’s conduction, Kagami’s mouth twists into a frown. “Uh, I don’t know. Kuroko and I are cool. I guess.”

“So why is he shooting hoops with Aomine right now instead of you?” Himuro pries, glad for the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. Even if they’re no longer termed brothers, looking after Kagami is a hard habit to break.

To Takao, Kasamatsu whispers, “That’s not a metaphor, now is it?” which gets the Shutoku player giggling. Even Sakurai has to cover his mouth with a tissue, due to an unappealing snort that has cold coffee dribbling down his chin.

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Kagami states, defensive. “He has his own set of friends and it’s not my business if he wants to hang out with them.”

“You’re not jealous?” Takao wheedles, bumping his shoulder with Kagami.

“Not really…” Kagami picks a donut and stuffs it into his mouth, chewing to bid some time. “I mean, we hang out in our own time. He comes by my place and he’ll read while I make lunch, sometimes we go out to the street courts for some one-on-one… Oh and just last week he dared me to go with him when Nigou needed to get shots.”

The other four exchange glances, nodding at some unspoken understanding.

“You must trust him a lot to leave him alone with Aomine-san,” Sakurai finally says, which gets both Takao and Kasamatsu nodding.

“We’re just friends, is what I’m saying,” Kagami explains, avoiding the question entirely. “I don’t have the right to question what he’s doing with whom.”

“So you’re not planning to make a move?” Himuro asks, already knowing the answer by the tone he uses.

Kagami frowns. “Now isn’t the time.”

“If you’re waiting on a sign…” Takao lets that sentence trail, looking meaningfully at Kagami.

“I say you’re still not sure of what you’re feeling,” Kasamatsu declares, sloshing his coffee around the cup. “Not to be a bad example but, that thing with Kise and me? Yeah, it all seemed promising until we put it to the test. Sure, it didn’t work out, but it saved us an eternity of wondering ‘ _what if?_ ’.”

“Kuroko-kun seems fairly attached to you,” Himuro observes. “But if he isn’t going out of his way to show that he’s looking for something more, then your best bet is to find someone else…”

“It’s not that simple,” Kagami insists. “Kuroko and I… we’ve got something. It’s more than just being partners, more than those miracles’ stupid light and shadow crap–”

Takao flinches. “Ouch, Tai-chan. That hit home.”

Kagami turns to him, surprised. “Oh. Sorry, man.”

“So what’s your issue?” Himuro prods at Takao. “No guts to profess your undying love to four-eyes?”

Leaning across the table to glare at Yosen’s captain, Takao’s tone is not as friendly as he’d previously displayed. “Excuse you, my Shin-chan has a name. And I am not taking my position as his shadow for granted.”

Himuro smiles at the heated response. “Well, well… Let’s hear it then.”

When Takao finishes his story (including everything up to the kotatsu incident), he finds himself surrounded by impressed stares. Even Himuro’s chiding expression has mellowed into something that’s not quite pity but is close enough.

“That’s harsh.”

“I know!” Takao finishes off his hot chocolate, resisting the urge to slam the cup on the table. He doesn’t need to make a scene as it is, he’s pretty sure the kids in the other tables have heard everything with the way he so passionately told his tale. “But I can’t say I blame him for – what?” He gets distracted by Kagami who’s staring at him too closely.

“You’ve got…” Kagami points at the area around his mouth. “Chocolate.”

Takao blinks, tongue slipping out to find his drink’s residue near the corner of his lips. “Oh.” He gets a tissue and wipes himself. “Better?”

A chuckle leaves Kagami. “Not really. Let me do it,” he offers, taking a fresh sheet and scrubbing away the chocolate foam mustache… or beard, more like it.

“I wish Aomine-san was that sweet,” Sakurai sighs, stirring the left-over ice in his drink.

“Shut up.” Kagami scowls, sending a half-hearted glare at the brunet. Opposite him, Himuro wears a mischievous smile.

“Well, that Midorima comes from a very traditional family, right?” Kasamatsu leads them back on topic. “Maybe he doesn’t want to, y’know, get involved prior to marriage.”

Takao hums, thoughtful. “Well, I have been eyeing this engagement ring at the jeweler’s.”

Kagami’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“I thought the engagement plan was off? What did I tell you about–?” He cuts himself mid-rant. Breathing deep, Kagami rethinks his words. “Look. You called me in the middle of the night saying your entire love life is over but… Dude, if Kuroko started humping my leg in his sleep, I’d freak out too.”

“Well I can’t say the same,” Himuro admits slyly, getting a puking motion from Kagami. Satisfied, he shifts his attention to the Shutoku player. “Though, you probably are just overreacting, Takao-kun.”

“Have you considered that Midorima-san isn’t into guys?” Sakurai adds. “If that’s the case then you’re lucky he still wants to be friends.”

“Y’know, I’m really curious as to how you got Aomine to cheat on Kise.” Takao tilts his head at Sakurai.

“I-I’m not sure,” Sakurai replies meekly. “It just happened.”

“Screwing around with the likes of Aomine doesn’t _just_ happen.”

“Takao, hey, don’t take it out on him.” Kagami puts a hand on Takao’s shoulder to keep him in his seat.

Takao catches himself and the alarmed look on Sakurai. His cheeks fill with hot guilt and shame. “Sorry, Ryou-chan.”

“It’s okay,” Sakurai assures him with a smile. “I’m contented to take what I can get but you… I admire your perseverance, Takao-san. And I hope that you and Midorima-san can sort things out.”

“Yeah.” Takao deflates now that he’s said everything. Looking up at Kagami, he musters a grateful smile.

Kasamatsu wipes his mouth free of glazed crumbs. “You’re exhausting yourself,” he tells Takao. “It’s admirable, like Sakurai here has said, but it’s also unhealthy. You’re just teenagers. Hell, we’re _all_ just teenagers. There’s so much more to live for. So don’t get yourself down over this. You’ve all got a big game tomorrow, am I right?”

Smiles bloomed around the table.

“Actually, I have a better idea,” Himuro says after the moment is over. He wears an easy smile, peering at the opposite side of the table through his bangs. “Why don’t you two just date each other?”

Kagami blinks. “What? Me and…” He looks down at Takao who’s already looking up at him in confusion; he still has his hand on the latter’s shoulder.

“Pffft.” Takao bursts out laughing and Kagami follows a second later. They slump into each other, laughing with incredulity at the suggestion. Himuro quietly waits them out. Kasamatsu and Sakurai share a wondering look.

“No way!” Kagami sputters. “That’d be like dating my brother–”

Himuro raises a brow and the younger teen shuts up.

Takao takes the opportunity to butt in. “I concede that I am not worthy to wear the same label as Tatsu-chan the ikemen–”

“Is that supposed to be me?!” Himuro hisses.

“But damn, Tai-chan,” Takao flutters his lashes at the redhead beside him, squeezing close in the small booth. “You could at least know what we are?”

Kasamatsu leans towards Sakurai, muttering, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“And what’s that?” Kagami challenges, honestly intrigued, barely recognizing that he’s moved closer.

“You.” A drawling voice comes from above them at the same time that fingers flick at Kagami’s ear. “Are not allowed to break Kuro-chin’s heart.”

Himuro looks up at the curtain of lilac hair that’s hanging above him. “Atsushi.”

“What the hell?” Kagami demands, jumping away with a hand over his ear to protect it from further abuse.

Murasakibara ignores him in favor of pressing a kiss on the corner of Himuro’s eye, right over his mole, in apology. “I got lost again. This mall has too many coffee shops.”

The public display of affection makes a shiver go up Kasamatsu’s spine, prompting him to cough and look away. Beside him, Takao is torn between cooing and gagging at the pair.

“That’s okay,” Himuro assures the teen leaning over from the empty booth behind him. Turning back to his table, he gives the group a smile. “It’s been a nice chat but my date has arrived and we better get going.”

Sakurai ambles out of the way, taking his shopping bags with him so that Himuro can exit the booth.

“Remember what I said,” Himuro directs his parting words at the pair on the bench. “Bye for now.”

With Himuro gone, Kagami rounds on the others. “What did Murasakibara just–”

“He told you not to break Kuroko’s heart, dumbass,” Kasamatsu states.

“And he flicked your ear like a kid,” Takao teases, smiling wider at the pout Kagami sends him.

“I wasn’t doing anything!”

“I don’t know,” Sakurai mumbles, self-consciously pressing the tips of his pointing fingers together. “From my perspective, it looked like you two were about to kiss.”

••••••••••••

Takao clutches at his stomach, air squeezed right out of his lungs as near-hysterical laughter spills into the evening. It’s one of the coldest winter nights but he’s comfortably warm.

“Oi, stop laughing, damn it!” The reprove is ineffective, considering the humor underlining the half-hearted attempt to quiet him.

One look at the matching twitches on Kagami’s lips and brows hauls even more raucous laughter from Takao. A couple of passersby look at him funny but he ignores them in favor of slapping Kagami’s back. “But that’s just freaking hilarious! I can’t believe he flat out said it! And the nerve of those guys to back him up!”

“It must be senioritis,” Kagami says, grinning as he gives in. Noticing Takao’s confused face, he explains, “It’s a thing, you know, when third years get close to graduating and they can’t think straight so they start spewing weird stuff.”

“Can’t think _straight_ ,” Takao snickers.

“Then again, Tatsuya probably has it out for me.” Kagami shoots a balled-up Maji Burger wrapper into a waste bin. He’d been carrying it with him from the store where they had a late dinner.

Takao whistles as the balled up paper goes in. “Two points to Seirin.”

“Shut up,” Kagami mutters as they turn the corner, entering the last stretch of road before the train station. At the lack of a witty comeback, Kagami looks over at his companion – Takao’s eyes are glinting with mischief. “What?” he asks, heat creeping over his cheeks as Takao shows him his phone with the camera app at the ready.

“Why don’t we give them something to _really_ talk about?”

Kagami’s heart skips a beat. “Don’t be stupid,” he says dismissively, desperately trying not to think of Sakurai’s final comment and Kasamatsu’s unhelpful agreement to it. He doesn’t think of Takao that way. Not really.

“Aw, but remember what Yuki-chan said?” Takao coaxes. If the sane man in the group saw the possibility, then it couldn’t be entirely unfounded. “We’ll never put the issue to rest until we test it out.”

“There _is_ no issue, Takao,” Kagami insists, reaching for Takao’s phone and exiting the camera mode.

“Then why won’t you look me in the eye when you say it?”

Kagami is struck by the sudden depth in Takao’s tone. He meets the silvery gaze, unable to look away now that he’s done it. “You don’t really want this,” he whispers.

Shrugging, Takao steps closer, pocketing his phone to get it out of the way. “Maybe I’m taking a leaf out of Ryou-chan’s book and taking what I can get.” His voice turns sly, playing with the drawstrings of the taller teen’s hoodie. “You gotta admit we have chemistry, Tai-chan.”

“… At least drop the stupid nickname if we’re going to kiss,” Kagami mutters, making a mental note to tell Tatsuya to keep his comments to himself from now on.

In the back of his mind, Takao thinks that’s something his Shin-chan would say if they ever got into this situation. But they wouldn’t – would never – and it’s that sobering thought that brings him to close the gap.

Kagami tastes chocolate on Takao’s lips, sweet and warm and not entirely unappealing.

••••••••••••

“Aw, isn’t this cute, Tetsu-kun?” Momoi squeals, showing the screen of her phone to the teen sitting opposite her.

Kuroko looks up from his bowl of noodles. It’s a photo uploaded by Shutoku’s Takao from five hours earlier, captioned with “ _Saturdate~!! ;)_ ”. He’s in a pastry store by the look of the food laid on the table but Kuroko’s focus is on the guy holding the camera.

Kagami has his hand extended as far as it would go to capture everyone in the photo. Sidled up beside him is Takao, smiling big and flashing a peace sign. Kasamatsu is on Takao’s other side, leaning in with half a grin on his face. On the other side of the table are Himuro and Sakurai, both smiling politely at the camera. Kagami’s face is all squinty, an expression Kuroko has learned to read as unbridled happiness.

“Huh, I didn’t know Ryou knew how to socialize,” Aomine comments, half-joking as he chews on his food.

“Dai-chan, don’t be mean,” Momoi scolds, taking back her phone so she could Like and comment on the photo.

Aomine nudges Kuroko’s shoulder when the teen doesn’t immediately go back to eating. They’d been practicing all afternoon and Kuroko was all but inhaling his noodles just now, to see him stop all of a sudden is a little disturbing. “You okay?”

Kuroko swirls his chopsticks around the bowl, dragging noodle strands into a cyclonic formation around the center. “I was just thinking… Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sheesh.” Aomine frowns, turning his attention back to his own plate. “You sound just like Ryou.”

••••••••••••

Takao has to raise himself on his toes a little, hands finding purchase on Kagami’s neck to bring him closer, make it a little easier. He makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat when Kagami angles their faces for a better fit.

Kagami pulls Takao nearer, setting his hands just above the cut of dark jeans. He’s pretty sure this goes far beyond what Kasamatsu said about testing things out but he can’t quite find the will to stop. Takao is a seriously good kisser.

He forgets that they’re actually doing this outside with civilians who might call the police on them for indecency but Takao can’t bring himself to care. Reciprocation feels awesome and it sends delightful tingles down to the tips of his toes. He pushes his hands into hair that’s softer than they look, waiting to bump into earpieces from rectangular-framed glasses but they never come. His fingers card smoothly through spiked hair, getting an encouraging squeeze around his waist in response.

••••••••••••

“What’s the matter, Shintaro?”

The smooth voice is garbled when it reaches his ears and it’s not until the second utterance of his name does Midorima finally look up.

“Apologies, I got… distracted.” He sets his phone face down and diverts his attention back to the digital game board. He ends his turn with a click of the mouse.

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Akashi says, his image over the video chat looking less than amused. “You just orchestrated your own defeat.”

Midorima stills, lips thinning to a line when he realizes he’d moved the wrong piece. “I can still turn this around.”

“No you can’t.” Akashi proves his point by making his finishing move and winning the match. He sighs, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand and looking disinterestedly into the camera. “And you were executing a good game, too. What did Momoi want?”

“It was nothing,” Midorima replies curtly, closing the tab that’s declaring his loss in dreadful gray text. “Just a photo.”

“Of whom?” Akashi swipes at his own phone, belatedly realizing he’d received the same message. “Nevermind, I got it, too.” He raises his brows at the image that pops up. It has entirely nothing to do with him but he must’ve gotten included due to Momoi’s contact grouping. Honestly, that woman… Nonetheless, he sees exactly what it is that has troubled his playing partner. “I thought you’ve fixed the situation with Kazunari.”

There’s a visible twitch in Midorima’s expression. “I have. Though I am now inclined to believe that we weren’t clear enough.”

“How many times do I have to say it?” Akashi takes on the tone of a scolding mother. “You have to be direct with him; otherwise he’ll never truly understand you.”

“Maybe this is the sign for me to stop; he is obviously enjoying his so-called date.” Midorima’s distaste can’t be conveyed enough.

“If you truly believe that, then why do you look like you’re about to break someone’s neck?” Akashi smiles to himself, looking down at the photo again. “Taiga’s, most probably.”

“Nonsense,” Midorima snips, meeting Akashi’s smile with a frown.

“You can’t lie to me, Shintaro. I know you too well.”

Pushing his glasses up, the lenses reflect the bright blue light of the computer screen. “As I do you.”


	7. What happens in Teikou bleeds out to the rest of the world

Some people would call it an accident but Midorima knows better and calls it fate. After all, it’s not like him to forget things in his locker, no matter that he’d just started using it yesterday – when he became an official member of the Teikou basketball club.

He’s surprised to find that the gymnasium lights are still on. Maybe the custodians aren’t done yet so he decides not to worry about wasted electricity. His shoes make no sound as he walks past the court, eyes longingly staring at the three-point line where he’d vowed to never miss another shot.

The locker room door squeaks as he enters, trying to be silent despite the knowledge that everyone else had left. He passes rows of lockers until he gets to the backmost aisle where all the freshmen are assigned. Midorima is running the numbers of his locker combination in his head but it all stops when he comes upon a sight that’s he was never meant to see (or _was_ , depending on your beliefs.)

Midorima stares, mute.

Akashi has never looked so scared, pulling the towel to cover everything that’s not meant to be seen. “What are you doing here?”

“I left my textbook. There’s an assignment due tomorrow,” Midorima says in a plaintive tone as though he hasn’t received the shock of a lifetime. They stare at each other for an eternity that lasts some five seconds. “Excuse me.” He passes Akashi and heads over to his locker, calm and collected.

Meanwhile, Akashi hurriedly clothes himself in more layers than what’s comfortable in the summer weather. He fixes his crooked tie and turns to find that Midorima has gone. Panic strikes him and he makes a dash for the door where his teammate is just about to leave.

“Midorima!”

Pausing in his steps, Midorima turns to Akashi with an expression of polite curiosity. “Yes?”

Akashi steels himself, at a loss of words. He expects to be bombarded with all kinds of invasive questions. In the worst case scenario, he might be threatened but this… Midorima’s neutral reaction… It’s disconcerting. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Akashi scrutinizes his taller teammate.

“I presume it’s a private matter and if the coach has allowed it, then I can’t complain.” Midorima states, coolly. “The coach _is_ aware, isn’t he?”

Akashi nods. “So is our captain and all authorities of note.”

“Then I have no questions though I must apologize for walking in on you. It won’t happen again. I’ll see you tomorrow, Akashi.” Midorima inclines his head in farewell, moving out the door in an unhurried pace.

Left in the locker room, Akashi finds his heart to be calmed by those words. Not having to explain himself is a refreshing experience.

••••••••••••

Akashi watches Midorima closely the next day. The guy is a loner, but he’s already made that clear during tryouts. He goes through the routines in strict silence, honing his still-imperfect form under the upperclassmen’s tutelage. Midorima is very reserved but maybe that’s just his excuse for ignoring Akashi the whole time.

Once practice is done with, Akashi stays behind as usual. He passes the time until the lockers clear out by chatting with Nijimura. In their quiet corner of the bleachers, Akashi divulges that he’s been discovered but there’s no need for panic since it’s only Midorima.

“Midorima, huh,” Teikou’s Captain muses, rubbing at his chin. “He’s a promising player with all that height and focus.”

Akashi agrees. “But he plays alone.”

“Well, we’re going to have to work on that,” Nijimura replies with an easy shrug. “You could use some friends of your own, Akashi-kun.”

••••••••••••

“If you really want to improve then you have to go beyond the normal drills.”

Midorima lowers his shooting arm, turning towards Akashi who has taken the spot beside him. He adjusts his glasses, giving way.

Akashi palms the ball passed to him, eyes set on the hoop looming high above. He jumps to make for his lack in stature and the ball soars right in. “I can talk to the captain about giving you extra practice time,” he informs Midorima.

“I can talk to him just fine,” Midorima replies, a little suspicious. “What is your true purpose?”

Akashi leads him towards the bleachers to get some privacy. Seating himself on a higher tier to keep on level with Midorima, Akashi explains. “I have decided to trust you.”

Blinking, Midorima’s lips quirk down. “I appreciate that but what you’re really asking is for a cover. It’ll be suspicious for you to keep staying late by yourself.”

“It won’t be suspicious if I’m staying late for practice with a teammate,” Akashi smiles, knowing that the odds are his favor. “You can perfect your technique on court and maybe warn me if someone’s coming into the lockers while I take care of my business.”

Midorima tells himself he’s only doing it for the extra practice time. If he wants to succeed, he has to do everything in his power to achieve his goals.

••••••••••••

In the stillness of the court, the rubber ball makes a perfect arc towards the hoop. Midorima wipes the sweat off his brow and picks another one from the cage. He gets into position, left-hand fingers supporting most of the ball’s weight. _89…_

“Hey, Midorima, a little help here?”

Midorima jerks, releasing the ball prematurely. The clang of the ring and scoreboard when the basketball ricochets off them is a cacophony to his ears. He glares at the head poking from the locker rooms. “What do you want, Akashi?”

“The clamps aren’t holding, I think they’re broken. Come see.”

Abandoning his shooting practice with a long-suffering sigh, Midorima goes into the locker rooms where Akashi is waiting for him with his fasteners and a long measure of gauze. Midorima inspects the metal clamps, finding the springs loosened; he tries to reattach them to no avail. “Your best bet is to buy new ones,” he informs Akashi. “Or get a quality binder. I’ve found reputable online stores that sell them.” When Akashi merely stares at him, his expression turns bashful. “What?”

Akashi hums, gathering his things. The light blue shirt he wears isn’t buttoned down, showing plenty of what he’s trying to hide upfront. He levels his red eyes at Midorima, intrigued. “You’re different from the others,” he says, putting his gym bag together. “You don’t look. You don’t question. What are you, Midorima Shintaro?”

“I’m only human,” Midorima replies, somewhat terse. He’s asked himself those same questions but have not come up with the right answer.

“Mm, that’s what you think,” Akashi says, buttoning up his uniform and putting on his tie. “You’re moving farther and farther from the three-point line as you practice. What exactly are you trying to achieve?”

“Same as everyone else. A starting position.”

“And after that?”

“…”

Akashi looks down at himself, fully dressed now but with evident convexities where there shouldn’t be. His purses his lips and bears it. Looking back at Midorima, he nods. “If you can’t admit it to me, that’s fine. The first step is always accepting it yourself.”

••••••••••••

“Hey Mido-chin~”

“Yes, Murasakibara?”

“How come Aka-chin doesn’t have a penis?”

Midorima chokes on air, glad that he had put away his drink when the taller teen chose to ask him that question. He raises narrowed eyes at the guy who’s stuffing his cheeks with sugar-coated snacks. “How am I supposed to know?”

“Well~” Murasakibara chews slowly. “You’re the smart one~ So tell me~”

If they weren’t in the relative isolation of the gymnasium, Midorima wouldn’t have dared breach the topic. But as it is, practice is over and the new captain has all the other members leave once the clean-up is done (Murasakibara being an exception since he has fallen asleep and only recently woke at the sound of Midorima’s shooting.) Midorima is having a drink while they both wait for Akashi to come out of the locker rooms. “I am in no position to tell but I am curious as to how you can say such things…”

Taking his time to unwrap another snack, Murasakibara answers in a childish tone. “Well, I can’t help but see over the other stalls when I use the bathroom… Not my fault they don’t make the cubicle walls higher… And Aka-chin is always sitting down, so~”

“So you jumped to conclusions?” Midorima sniffs.

Murasakibara shrugs.

“That’s not a very nice habit, Atsushi.”

The pair on the bleachers turn towards the voice. Akashi’s steps are easy as he comes up to them. He hands a pair of scissors back to Midorima who stores it carefully in his bag. “Sorry, I took so long. The cutting is a chore but it has to be done.” Akashi sweeps nimble fingers over the jagged edges of his hair. Turning his gaze over to Murasakibara, he speaks again. “You are not to repeat those words again, understood?”

“But I don’t like secrets~” Murasakibara pouts, curiosity winning over the imminent danger that’s hanging over him. There’s a spark of rabid attention under the lazy droop of his eyelids.

“It’s not a secret now that you know it, Atsushi,” Akashi states calmly. Too-calmly in fact, that Midorima is a little worried. “And I don’t think it makes any difference after the fact that I have beaten you.”

“Mmm…” Murasakibara lolls his head from side to side, humming as he deliberates. “I guess that’s true…”

“It is,” Akashi nods, satisfied. “You don’t want me peering into _your_ stall now, do you, Atsushi? With all the ruckus going on in there, I might have to report you.”

Midorima narrows his eyes confusedly at Murasakibara who has started giggling. “What…?”

“But it’s so nice to see them try…” Murasakibara licks at the cream filling that’s smudged at the corner of his lips.

Akashi sighs at the predictable response. “It can’t be helped that most teenagers have very curious minds but it wouldn’t do to invite trouble like that.”

“ _I’m_ not going through any trouble, though,” Murasakibara says, sucking the powdered sugar off his fingers. “I just sit and let them do all the work…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Akashi watches as Midorima tries to hide his discomfort by shuffling the deck of cards that is his lucky item for the day. Maybe it was a bad idea to get the guy hooked on Oha Asa but no matter – Midorima’s playing gets better every day since he believes that nothing can go wrong and neither of them can complain about that.

Midorima is distantly aware of what Murasakibara is talking about and not too long ago he’d confessed to Akashi himself how he’d found no inclination towards such things. He was one step away from consulting a doctor, to see what’s wrong with him because what he is experiencing cannot be a product of admirable self-control or extreme discipline. No matter how traditional his upbringing, it certainly couldn’t have resulted in such a backwards attitude.

Akashi looked up at him then, dead-serious over their half-finished shogi game and told him to never again compare himself with other people. They’re not like him, not like them. _Those people_ aren’t at their level, they are unworthy. The glint of gold in his left eye gave Midorima no room for argument.

 _You and me, we’re special_ , Akashi had said, impressing those words upon him with utmost certainty that Midorima found it impossible to contradict. He didn’t want to. People called him – them – the Generation of Miracles. A superfluous moniker that he could be laughing at but instead takes pride in. By virtue of it, he will become untouchable. Unquestionable.

He’s glad that he talked to Akashi first.

Midorima meets Akashi’s eyes now, thinking that he’s seen the same flash of gold as back then but it could just be the ceiling lights. Somehow, he knows that Akashi is remembering the same thing. The ace of spades is face up on his deck.

“To each his own, then,” Akashi states, smiling at his shooting guard and center. With these two and the rest of the Teikou team, he is guaranteed a win for any and all upcoming competitions.

••••••••••••

Midorima’s heart is pounding as he cuts through the school halls. Classes are on-going and he might be missing an important lecture but an issue of greater importance pulls at his feet. His phone presses against his leg as he runs up the flight of stairs, a cold deadweight in his pocket.

He stops in front of third floor bathroom, unsurprised to find the door locked from inside. Checking himself, Midorima wills his breathing to even out before knocking thrice on the door. “Akashi, it’s me.”

For the first few seconds there’s no noise, then he hears something muffled, pained. Midorima swallows and knocks again. “Open this door.” _Let me help_. _You called for me, right? Let me do my job… as your vice-captain, your confidante, your friend._

This time he hears footsteps, uneven and halting. Midorima’s hands helplessly curl into fists by his side. He can do nothing but wait and when the knob finally turns, he all but forces the door the rest of the way open.

He’s met with a blank face and heterochromic eyes. Akashi’s expression has been wiped clean of the panic he must’ve worn when he called Midorima not more than five minutes ago, urgent and pleading for the latter to come find him. “I am sorry for disrupting your learning, Shintaro,” Akashi says, prim and collected as though his pristine pants aren’t soaked in red.

Midorima can’t bear to look into those eyes. He finds the trail of blood behind Akashi to be somewhat more comforting in the most skewed way imaginable. “You should go to the nurse.”

“I am not sick.” Akashi is deadly with that disengaged tone. “Only sick people are required to visit the medical ward.”

 _This isn’t Akashi_ , Midorima has to remind himself to keep from reaching out and touching the mannequin’s face. He adjusts his glasses instead, sight blurring even as he speaks. “The nurse has a change of clothes. You can’t expect to resume classes in your state.”

Akashi looks down at himself, a slight pout surfacing as he muses. “I suppose you’re right.” He moves past Midorima and makes his way down towards the school clinic.

Midorima grabs a mop from the bathroom and locks it with his exit. He dutifully cleans after the other teen, letting not a single drop remain in their wake. Goodness knows people have seen him carrying more ridiculous items than a mop in these halls.

Akashi’s pants are soaked through by the time they reach the clinic. The school doctor quickly whisks him away to another room and Midorima follows until the door is shut in his face. A friendly nurse approaches him and takes the mop from his hands, bringing it to the bathroom to clean up. She thanks him for his assistance and he tells her there’s a bigger mess in the males’ bathroom on the third floor.

••••••••••••

Akashi has been forever changed. Then again, they all have – changed for the worse as Kuroko would say. Teikou’s basketball team has become unstoppable in their quest for victory. They are no longer the Generation of Miracles but a band of monsters out to destroy everyone that stands in their way.

Midorima makes his shots from the half-court line and Aomine charges through every defense, racking up points that dishearten even the bravest souls. Kise uses their opponents’ strengths against them and Murasakibara personifies an impenetrable wall, dooming all attempts to score. Akashi never loses and Kuroko quits the team.

••••••••••••

Kuroko stares at the trophies lined up in neat rows beyond the glass, glinting under the low light and taunting him with the accolades but he isn’t moved. Not when there’s not a single smiling face in the accompanying photos. Well, there used to be but not anymore.

It’s more than the philosophy that he’s leaving behind, he tells himself, eyeing the first photo that includes him – smiling shyly under the arm wrapped around his shoulders. Aomine has shone blindingly bright even back then but there’s a darkness in his eyes now that scares Kuroko as much as it challenges him to do something about it. And he does, he plans to.

He looks at the next photo and there he can see how they’ve become more than just acquaintances, a true team to be reckoned with, renowned for generations to come. Aomine’s smile rivaled the sun that day when his raw talent started to bloom. No matter what Akashi would claim, Kuroko knows that he had found out first. He was Aomine’s shadow after all, and even now he can still…

No. Kuroko refuses to go there. Not right now. Maybe some time in the future but not when the wounds are still fresh. It’s all partly his fault for hoping against hope and now he must learn to stand on his own. He envies Momoi for not giving up, he wishes he had even just half of her valiant grace but he also knows that such qualities would only be wasted on him; he is but a shadow, after all. It’s in his nature to find a new light.

The slam of the doors behind him is final. His first step out of these sacred halls is the hardest but after that decisive move, the rest are easy.

••••••••••••

In retrospect, Kuroko shouldn’t have expected for things to be so easy since they rarely do end up as such. He lay in his bed that first night, unblinking. His new light is much like Aomine; too much, in fact, that he supposes he _does_ have a type. But this one’s a little more ragged around the edges, practically shiny-new from the metaphorical box that he came from.

Kagami-kun is loud, a shameless glutton, and so unapologetically pure that Kuroko feels like some evil mastermind from those novels he constantly carries around. Kagami-kun loves basketball, with all his mind, all his heart, and it shows. It makes Kuroko’s heart soar, it rings something deep in his very soul.

With Kagami he stands a chance. With Kagami he _proves_ his point to his former teammates. The wins are just a bonus, his true reward lies in the rekindled friendships and the new ones he bridges. Midorima would probably call such partnership a product of fate, and if Kuroko is inclined to believe so, well, Midorima doesn’t need the satisfaction of knowing.

Actually, it’s a little amusing that the offish shooting guard has become a light by his own right and found himself a shadow to boot. Takao reminds Kuroko of Kise, albeit with a lot more common sense. This Takao is gifted, though by no means on the same level as the Generation of Miracles or Kagami. Despite this, his partnership with Midorima makes them a formidable opponent on court. What Kuroko didn’t expect to have to compete off of it as well.

He turns, displacing the covers as he reaches for the phone on his bedside table. Sleep refuses to grant him reprieve, as a result his mind is flooded with hoards of meaningless questions. His body is tired from the afternoon’s drills and he vaguely wonders how Midorima does it, shooting perfectly, endlessly, day after day. The photo loads and his eyes are glued to Kagami’s honest smile – one that Kuroko would never tire of seeing, one that he selfishly wants to be the sole recipient of. Some part of Kuroko gets disheartened the longer he stares at the photo, wishing to be the one beside his light.

If his suspicions are correct, then he really has no luck with love. Maybe he shouldn't have devoted himself so much to Kagami, maybe he should've waited longer after Aomine before finding a replacement, maybe his lack of sleep is making him think irrationally because he _knows_ – he knows it on the most intimate level of his being – that Kagami sees him in the same way. It's in the little things – that one burger from the stack reserved for him, the second longer that Kagami lingers when hugging him after a winning game, the noble (and amusing) effort Kagami puts in dealing with Nigou when he thinks Kuroko isn't looking. He loves the way Kagami has threaded so seamlessly into his life, the balance of power shared between them – pulsing and passionate, promising. Kuroko very much wants them to acknowledge this possibility, wants this dream to become a reality much like the way all the others have.

He wants everything with Kagami.


	8. It started out with a kiss

In complete contrast to their easy attitude yesterday, Yosen’s double aces are merciless in the quarter finals. The packed stadium doesn’t even know who it’s cheering for, the afternoon heat is dissipated by the energetic chanting from seas of orange and pink. Shutoku has called for a time-out.

Coach Nakatani barks his final orders, spewing spit that’s lost in the sweat running down his players’ tired physiques. Jenrya adjusts their offensive strategy. They’ve only got ten seconds to pull through. They’re ten seconds away from losing or gaining a chance at the title match.

Takao wipes the face towel over his eyes, he’s exhausted but there’s no way he’s going to sub out in this crucial moment. Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night but now isn’t the time for regrets. Now is the time to pour his very soul into securing their win. Midorima is breathing hard beside him, hair matted with how profusely he’s sweating. There’s something feral in the way he’s been playing, purpose-driven to the point that he damn near makes a replay of their final training camp match last summer. Coach Nakatani had anticipated it somehow and thwarted the setback early on. There’s a different tint in his eyes when they get insanely focused like that and only the hoop has been on the receiving end of that look more than Takao. It’s not the Zone – Takao has yet to see Midorima in it – but it’s something very close.

The buzzer sounds and the huddles disperse. From the Yosen bench, sparks of purple energy rise with Murasakibara who takes his position under the net.

Himuro is pitted against Midorima but for a split second he glances at Takao who’s about to receive the ball from the referee. Silver meets coal and Takao swallows down a curse. Damn Himuro for messing up his mind.

With a whistle, the game is back in play. Takao maneuvers around two towering blockers – _where does Yosen keep getting these titans?_ He passes to Jenrya and keeps moving. There’s no time to second guess. He penetrates the inside of the defense, hearing the continuous thump of the ball as Jenrya shouts something at Hisagi. Everything’s according to plan so far.

Rubber soles skid on the floor as he stops, blocked by Yosen’s formidable center. Isn’t Marufuji supposed to be guarding this guy? His throat dries at the sheer power emanating from his opponent. Himuro wasn’t kidding about Murasakibara’s priorities. Somehow he manages to grin at the giant, cheeky even in the face of death. Whatever. His Hawk’s Eye alerts him of Hisagi’s pass and he turns, so sure of his ability to deliver the ball into his ace’s hands. The ball barely grazes his fingers when Murasakibara swats it away.

Himuro smiles at Midorima, hearing Takao’s startled yelp. “Sorry for your loss.” Slinking away, he catches the ball and releases it as the timer drops to zero.

Takao couldn’t bear to look but he can hear the swish of the net as Yosen’s final score tops theirs by two measly points. Over the clamor of cheers and the resounding buzzer, Takao finds himself attuned to a not-so-languid voice coming from just above him.

“What did I tell you about breaking hearts, puny point guard?” Murasakibara tilts his head, shadows covering his eyes as he pins Takao with a deadly stare.

Adrenalin sets fire to the anger that’s welled up inside him, burning hot under his skin and pushing him into action. Takao grits his teeth, defiantly staring up at Yosen’s ace. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A cruel smile curls at the corner of Murasakibara’s lips. “Aka-chin sends his regards.”

Takao stands frozen and would’ve stayed as such if not for Jenrya who takes him by the arm and pulls him towards the half-court line where everyone else is waiting. With all ten players facing each other, Takao tries his hardest not to cry, not to scream out and demand an explanation.

Rising from his bow after the referee has declared Yosen’s win, Midorima finds Murasakibara staring at him. The energy that he’d been radiating in the final quarter has worn out but the clarity in them is shining still. Midorima nods, earning a lazy smile in response – one that he remembers to mean Murasakibara is proud of himself for doing something praise-worthy.

••••••••••••

There’s a one hour interval before the next match but they’re not staying to watch. The locker room is silent save for the half-hearted motions of the players changing out of sweat-soaked jerseys and into more comfortable clothes. When most everyone is dressed, Jenrya and the other third years line up to deliver their farewell speech.

“Takao.” Jenrya moves forward to put his hand on their point guard’s shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck in leading the team next year. I can only bring us so far but maybe you can take them higher; seat the King of the East on its rightful throne.”

“What – Me?” Takao sputters; even with the Hawk’s Eye he didn’t see this coming. “ _Me_? After I fumbled that last pass?” They can’t be serious. He’s not fit to lead, emotionally (and maybe psychologically) speaking.

The retiring captain merely nods. “You know this team by heart,” he says, which Takao takes to mean that he knows their ace better than anyone else.

It’s absurd because as far as Takao knows he’s been slowly and surely and _stupidly_ severing that most valuable connection. Proof of it is how Midorima is sitting on the opposite end of the bench right now.

“Can I think about it? Being Captain is a lot of responsibility and I don’t think… I’m not…” Takao manages to say as much before he trails off, turning to their coach who approves his request with a nod.

As the group exits, Takao stays behind pretending to tie his shoes, whereas Midorima remains a statue on the bench. His lucky item, a scale model airplane, takes the space vacated by their teammates.

The silence is suffocating and Takao is just about ready to explode. He takes a deep breath. “People have been saying the weirdest things to me today,” he starts with a huff, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. Even without looking, he knows that Midorima hasn’t moved, hasn’t raised his head to recognize that Takao is speaking to him, and that’s fine. Takao just needs to talk, let it all out. It doesn’t matter if Midorima is there or not. (Except it totally does.) “Captaincy. Ha!” Takao rakes both hands through his hair, messing it up and pulling at it. “I don’t understand why they didn’t offer it to you! You’re our ace, Shin-chan, and I’m just… I’m me!”

The self-depreciating tone is almost enough to push words out of Midorima’s mouth but he keeps mum. He’s angry at himself. He’d given it his all and it still wasn’t enough. He’d let his team down again but more pressingly, he’d failed to show Takao that there’s something for him here. That he doesn’t have to look far, that he should stay and keep his focus _right here_ because Midorima can take care of the points and the defense and everything else if Takao would just _look_ at him – only him. It’s Midorima’s one unspoken selfish wish for the day and he blew it.

“I’m not a leader.” _I’m just a shadow. **Your** shadow **.**_ Takao slumps at the thought, elbows digging into his knees, face covered by his hands. “Being captain is no piece of cake, damn it.” And speaking of cakes… The low fire that’s settled in his belly sparks up at a certain memory. “Y’know, Shin-chan, your friend Murasakibara told me something funny at the end of the match…”

In spite of himself, Midorima raises his head a little.

Takao bites at his lip, unsure how he wants to sound as he repeats those poisonous words. “He said that Akashi sends his regards.” There. Flat. Maybe with a little (a lot of) sneering. Takao slides his gaze towards the other end of the bench where Midorima has sat up and is staring back at him. “So Akashi’s got hitmen from other teams, too? Fantastic.”

“Akashi had nothing to do with the turnout of that match,” Midorima tells him, objective. And even if Akashi had ordered Murasakibara to go all-out against them, Midorima is sure that Murasakibara has planned to do so even without Akashi’s command; this is the final year of Yosen’s formidable tandem, after all.

It’s no surprise that Midorima has taken Akashi’s side. Takao’s mouth tastes a little bitter and it seeps into his tone. “I know. It’s my fault we lost. It’s never you or any of your damn Miracles’ faults!”

Midorima opens his mouth to argue, to point out that their loss was a consequence of his own inadequacy, but Takao talks right over him.

“You always take their side, Shin-chan!”

“Well, you can’t blame them for everything,” Midorima snaps, feeling the need to match the heightened tension in Takao’s voice. As always, he’s no good at controlling himself when it comes to the other teen; the calm and collectedness he prides himself on is lost when faced with a Takao that’s just bursting with emotions. “Not when much of the blame lies in our own hands.”

“And I can’t keep apologizing to you for every little thing,” Takao cries, facing Midorima with a glare – not a trace of his characteristic smile on his face.

“I am not asking for your apology.” Midorima’s brows are furrowed, his lips pressed to a line. _You don’t have to apologize_. “I just wish you’d learn to take responsibility.” _Learn from this loss and grow. Captain Jenrya offered me the captaincy but I refused because I know of a better candidate._

Takao wrings his hands together. He’ll never win against Midorima. Not that he ever expects to, not that he really wants to. All he wants is for them to stand on the same ground and he’s given that chance on court – a chance to prove his worth, his skill, his devotion. People keep telling him it’s not whether you win or lose; it’s how you play the game. Takao has been playing this game ever since he can remember. He’s watched in awe of the better players and set his goals as high as he can get them, he trains and trains until he pukes his guts out and then he goes back for more. He doesn’t deceive himself with dreaming of being on the same skill level as the Generation of Miracles but at the very least – “Why can’t you just understand?” Takao whines, suddenly quiet like a kicked puppy.

This is certainly not how this conversation is supposed to go. Midorima is sure they’re no longer on the same page; possibly not even on the same book. He never wants to see Takao look so defeated but that seems to be the only expression he brings out in his partner. Can they even be called partners? They’re not even communicating properly. It’s a right mess and Midorima wants nothing more than to fix it but what comes out of his mouth is - “If you want sympathy, then go run to Kagami” – which is apparently the worst possible thing he could have said at that moment.

The change in Takao is immediate. His eyes dilate and his face blotches with red, the look of the hunted taking over his defeated expression from moments before. His mouth opens and closes without a sound, he works his throat, his mind, but nothing comes out. Heartbeat thumping to the tune of panic, Takao wonders how could Midorima possibly know anything about _that_.

Neither of them speaks for a pregnant second, staring and deducing what they can from similarly distant expressions.

Takao moves first, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Maybe I will.” The unsteady first steps break out to a run the second he’s out of the locker room.

••••••••••••

“Excuse me, coach, I need to talk to one Kagami Tai-chan, please.”

Riko looks up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, surprised to find Shutoku’s Takao standing beside her. The rest of his team has supposedly left, but more importantly she knows that he can’t seriously expect to borrow her player when the game starts in fifteen minutes. “Can’t it wait until after the match?”

“Just five minutes,” Takao pleads, anxiety showing in the way he’s rocking on his heels. “Or even one. Just give me one minute with him.”

Pursing her lips, Riko has a firm reprove at the tip of her tongue when who else but Seirin’s ace himself jogs up to them.

“Takao.” It’s a question as much as a greeting. Kagami is staring at him with a mix of worry and confusion.

“A quick talk, Tai-chan, that’s all I’m asking,” Takao implores, looking between ace and coach until Riko sighs, giving in.

“Fine. Make it super quick.”

Takao gives a low bow. “Thank you.”

Out on the court, Kuroko watches his light walk out with Shutoku’s shadow. Hyuga passes a basketball over and he goes for a shoot with little success. Running to the back of the line, he catches Akashi’s eyes from the other side of the court. Akashi’s mien is subdued but Kuroko has a feeling that they were looking at the same thing just now.

The hallways are nearly empty with the second match of the day about to start. Kagami crosses his arms once Takao leads them to a stop, red catching silver in the brightly lit hall.

“This better be important,” Kagami huffs.

“Oh, it is.” Takao’s expression turns dark as he steels himself. “What the hell did you tell my Shin-chan?”

“Midorima?” Kagami scowls, having no clue what brought this on. “I don’t talk to the guy as much as I can help it.”

“Then how did he _know_?”

“Know about what?”

“ _You know what_!” Takao hisses, the color in his face collecting over his cheeks.

It’s painfully obvious the moment it clicks for Kagami. He starts acting all nervous and suddenly can’t look Takao in the eye. “Oh. _That_. W-What on earth made you think I’ll tell him about _that_?”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t tell him.” Takao crosses his arms. “And it was just you and me, buddy.”

“But it was nothing!” Kagami exclaims. “You told me it was nothing!”

“It is!” Takao agrees, desperate to get to the bottom of this. “But for some reason Shin-chan knows and Murasakibara knows and I’ll bet my Hawk’s Eye that Akashi freaking knows, too!” He makes a frustrated noise and barely stops himself from stomping his feet.

“Whoa, whoa, how do you even–” The incinerating look on Takao’s face silences him. Kagami clears his throat and tries a new approach. “Well, even if they know just tell them it’s nothing!”

“And you seriously think they’ll listen? To me?”

“Maybe. If you don’t sound so hysteric,” Kagami says, wryly. He places a hand on either side of Takao’s temples and smooths the crinkled line of his brows with his thumb. “Yosen is one hell of a team and you’re probably just reeling from the game results. Just… Calm down, alright? Midorima will listen to you, he has to, and once he understands, who cares about anyone else, yeah?”

Takao closes his eyes, letting Kagami’s words wash over him like a waterfall; it’s a pretty cleansing experience. Maybe he was going a little crazy back there; he never liked cramped spaces. Midorima didn’t deserve to be shouted at like that. Midorima was only looking out for him, like he always does, because Takao is a big pain in the ass but Midorima keeps him around despite it all. Because Midorima cares. Ah, shit. “Sorry for dragging you out here,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around Kagami’s middle. He needs some sort of stability and Kagami is convenient enough to provide it. “I must’ve looked like a madman in front of Coach Riko.”

Kagami grins, patting the top of Takao’s head. “Yeah, you did. Why do you think I rushed over there the second I saw your crazy ass?”

“Hey. My ass isn’t–”

“I know,” Kagami interjects, ignoring the heat that creeps over his cheeks when Takao grins up at him. “And I could care less because I have no interest in it whatsoever. You, on the other hand…” He tucks his chin to his chest so that they can see eye to eye in their entangled position. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Mm, Kuroko is a lucky man,” Takao says, quiet so that only Kagami would hear.

“Well, you’re not a total disaster yourself,” Kagami returns, pressing a kiss to Takao’s forehead.

“Gee, thanks.” The watery smile making its way across Takao’s features stop short of reaching his eyes. In a split second, his relaxed posture stiffens and time slows down as he registers a figure just at the edges of his vision. Takao retracts his arms, jumping away from Kagami and turning to where Midorima is standing, staring at them from the end of the hallway. “S-Shin-chan…”

Kagami’s eyes go wide. He swivels to face Midorima and nearly staggers back at the intensity of the anger he can sense boiling inside the other teen. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Go die.” Midorima’s tone drips with contempt and he walks out on them in quick, decisive steps.

“Mother of _fuck_ ,” Kagami swears in English. Beside him, Takao is muttering “I am dead, I am dead” in a broken whisper.

From around the corner echoes a chirpy greeting, “Hey, Midorimacchi~ Hey – Ow! What–?”

“Look where you’re fucking going!” A gruff voice that is _definitely_ _not_ Midorima follows.

“All of you should just die!” There. That one’s Midorima, sounding farther and farther away (though no less angry) with every syllable.

Kise’s pouting face morphs into concern when he finds the other pair standing static in the middle of the hallway. “What are you two doing here?” he asks with a tilt of the head.

“You’re up against Rakuzan, aren’t ya?” Aomine scowls at Kagami who finally snaps to attention.

“Oh shit, right.” Kagami knows he should run back to the court stat but… “Takao, I am so sorry. Fuck, I didn’t know–”

But Takao isn’t processing anything, eyes unseeing as he looks straight ahead.

“Shit.” Kagami runs a hand through his hair, looking helplessly at Kise and Aomine, both of whom are sending him strange looks. “Long story short, Midorima saw us and told us to go die. Takao seems to have taken that literally and–” A booming voice from the stereo system announces that the Seirin vs. Rakuzan game will be starting shortly. “Damn it.”

Aomine looks unimpressed, wagging his pointing finger between Kagami and Takao. “So you two are…”

“No!” Kagami is one popped vein away from strangling Touou’s ace. “There is _nothing_ going on but – Argh! I can’t leave him like this!”

“I’ll take care of him,” Kise speaks up with a sudden sense of purpose. He moves to Takao’s side, waving a hand in front of his face. No reaction. “Aominecchi, you drag Kagamicchi here to his game.” When both teens only stare at him, Kise shoos them away with his hand. “Go! Takaocchi is in good hands. Get going, Kagamicchi! And good luck~”

“Alright, you heard the guy.” Aomine grabs Kagami by the collar of his jersey and hauls him in the direction of the court.

Kagami chokes for half a moment before wresting himself away and jogging ahead. He looks back at Takao and grudgingly shoves his worries to the back of his mind.

Aomine catches up to him easily, but says nothing.

He can feel the glare sent his way and Kagami resists the urge to roll his eyes. “No, Aomine. Whatever ridiculous thing you’re thinking about – the answer’s no.”

“Good,” Aomine spits out. “Because if I find out you’re playing Tetsu, I won’t just tell you to die. I’ll bury you myself.”

Kagami huffs. _Look who’s talking._

••••••••••••

“Takaochhi… Hey, Takaocchi…”

The soothing voice reaches him through the fog that has enveloped his mind. He recognizes it as that of a friend and reaches for it. Takao shakes his head, blinking as he’s reacquainted with his surroundings. He finds himself in one of the snack bars inside the sports arena, he breathes in the smell of food and his stomach grumbles a little. Looking around, he nearly falls off his seat at the sight of Kise’s smiling face on the other side of the table. “Whoa.”

“Welcome back, Takaocchi,” Kise greets, pacifying and kind. “You gave us quite a scare back there. Feeling better?”

“I guess,” Takao mumbles, putting his palm over his forehead and finding a normal temperature. “I’m not sick or anything but…”

Kise forces himself to hold still as Takao’s face crumples right in front of him.

“Hey, Kise-chi…” Takao says in a hushed tone, worrying his bottom lip. “Shin-chan just told me to go die, didn’t he?”

“Well~ that’s true, but he says that to me all the time,” Kise points out gently. “He never really means it.”

“But he does this time, he does.” His blurry vision tells him he’s about to cry more than the fact that his hands are shaking even as he forces to keep them fisted over his lap. “I keep trying to fix things but I just… I only mess it up even more.”

Kise allows him a few seconds of silence. Treading gently, he prods. “Can you really not think of any reason why Midorimacchi would act that way?”

Takao looks at him, crushed. “Not you, too.”

Kise raises both hands in a show of mollification. “That photo you posted yesterday? Everyone’s seen it. And it’s nice to see all you guys being so chummy but… you and Kagamicchi… you kind of stood out. Anyone would’ve assumed there was something going on.”

“To be fair,” Takao grimaces through his confession. “I was only supposed to meet up with Tai-chan yesterday… The other guys just… happened.”

The smile falls right off Kise’s face. His sharp eyes bore into Takao’s, reading every tick in his expression, every shift of his body. “You better start explaining, Takaocchi. Now."


	9. Halfway there

Rakuzan is leading by thirteen points when the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the second quarter. They’re allotted a ten-minute break before the last half of the game begins. Kagami storms off the court, frustrated, grabbing his bag and not even looking at his teammates before walking out. He’s got three personal fouls on the ledger.

Kuroko watches him worriedly from the bench. Unlike the rest of Seirin who are stunned by the display, Kuroko makes to hurry after his light.

Riko, however, purses her lips and grabs Kuroko by the arm, shaking her head. She leads the team to their locker room to go over their strategy for this crucial match.

••••••••••••

Of course Takao wouldn’t be in the hallway where he left him with Kise. Kagami scolds himself for having such a scrambled mind and heads out of the arena to get some fresh air. Slumping down on one of the benches, he empties his water bottle into his mouth but it’s not enough to sate his thirst. He’s way too tired for having just played half of the game; then again, they _are_ up against the Uncrowned Kings and the Emperor of Rakuzan. The humid afternoon air does nothing to cool off his frizzled senses.

Kagami hates how he can’t seem to find focus. He _knows_ how dire their situation is but he still can’t get it together, he can’t get Takao’s haunted expression out of his head. Growling, he slams his fists onto his thighs. Kagami has disconnected from his team – in this moment, rather literally so – and for what?

His phone vibrates from inside the bag and Kagami startles, somehow forgetting he’d brought it with him. Seeing the brightened screen and the name flashing at him gets Kagami sitting up straighter.

 **From: Takao**  
Subject: Sorry  
:: I messed up real bad. Sorry for dragging you into this. I’ll call you later.

Kagami’s frown etches deeper on his face. There _is_ no later, damn it. He needs his peace of mind _right now_. Kagami hits call and presses the device against his ear; Takao picks up after two rings.

“T-Tai-chan?”

Heat bursts from his chest at hearing that voice. The tension along his shoulders disperse and Kagami closes his eyes, breathing deep. “Where are you?”

“I’m…” The sound of a car horn blaring kicks up the static as Takao hesitates in replying. “I’m okay but what – why are you calling? You have a game–”

“It’s halftime. I saw Kise in the stands. I thought he said he’d be with you but–”

“Tai-chan, I told you I’m fine. That’s why I sent Kise back.” Takao’s tone gets insistent over the line but they both know it’s a lie. Hours of phone conversations has made Kagami familiar with the tone Takao uses when he’s not honest with himself. His next words are delivered softer. “Focus on your game, yeah? I’m sorry for distracting you.”

 _You’re not a distraction_ , Kagami wants to say but when he opens his eyes, Kuroko is standing right in front of him. The words get stuck in his throat and he’s unable to look away when Kuroko is staring at him with that expression. “I’ve been playing like shit, you know, and maybe I _was_ a little distracted but…” At this point, Kagami is sure he’s talking to both shadows. Revived passion flares up in red irises. “I can only get better from here.”

“I know you will,” Takao assures him. From the background comes a voice calling for the Shutoku player to hurry, it eases off Kagami’s worries of Takao being alone. “Talk to you later, Tai-chan.”

Still – “Wait!”

“Hm?”

Kagami’s grip on the phone tightens a little. Not even Kuroko’s staring can stop him from asking, “You promise you’re alright?”

There’s a sharp inhale before Takao answers him. “Yeah. I promise.” And there’s enough of a smile hinted in his tone for Kagami to accept it without argument.

Bringing down his phone once Takao ends their call, Kagami prepares to meet Kuroko’s judgment. He bows his whole upper body low and braces himself with a palm on each knee. “You can whack me on the head. Knock some sense into me. I know I deserve it.”

Kuroko moves forward, stopping within two feet of the impressively folded stature. “Kagami-kun is being ridiculous,” he states. “We can’t beat Rakuzan if our ace is running around with a concussion.”

Kagami looks up at him, peering out of one eye like he’s making sure Kuroko doesn’t have a fist ready to punch him. Deeming it safe, Kagami sits upright. “Apologies won’t take away those fouls or bring back lost points. So give me another chance, Kuroko.”

“Should I want to know what happened for you to act like you did?” Kuroko ventures with a slight tilt of the head. It’s almost unheard of to have a distracted Kagami playing on court yet the whole stadium just witnessed that, in an official tournament no less. It doesn’t take much guessing to figure out who Kagami was talking to on the phone just now.

“It’s complicated,” Kagami blurts out. They stare at each other for a beat, then Kagami stands up, hitching his bag over one shoulder. “And coach will kill the both of us dead if we don’t head back. Damn it, now you’re in trouble, too.”

“Am I?” Kuroko asks, pulling his varsity jacket tighter around himself.

“Yeah,” Kagami grunts, agitatedly running a hand through his two-toned hair. “You shouldn’t have come after me, you know. Now we both missed the important strategy talk.” They slip through the automatic doors of the arena, feet leading them by memory to the locker room area.

“Was it worth it, Kagami-kun?” Kuroko’s question stalls them just outside the door bearing their school name. Vague silhouettes and muffled voices are filtered through the opaque window. By the look of things, their teammates are far from having lost all hope.

Kagami looks down at his partner, cast in shadow by his height against the ceiling’s light fixtures. “Huh?”

The answer is written in Kagami’s expression – determination and calm, exactly what they need to turn the game into their favor – but Kuroko’s relief isn’t wholehearted. It’s a sad realization that all his worrying has been trivial, that Kagami has righted himself just fine without his help. Kuroko is well-aware that his reasons for going after Kagami were not entirely for the benefit of their team. He wanted to be the one but –

“There you are!”

Kagami balks for a second, caught off-guard, before bravely facing the collective wrath of Seirin’s basketball team. “I can’t excuse what I’ve done,” he starts. “But if you’d still let me play–”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Riko snaps at him, pushing past her players to stand up front. “If you weren’t key to the winning this game I’d have you benched until the last quarter. We’re going into the final half, I don’t need to tell how important this is for us.”

Stealing a quick glance at the third years behind the coach, Kagami squares his jaw and nods. The weight of his actions dawns on him after seeing the resolve emanating from Kiyoshi and the rest of the upperclassmen. His selfish playing brought this on and the only way to recover from it is to clear his mind and focus on winning.

“So is your head screwed on straight or do I have to work it out for you?” Riko’s rhetorical question is punctuated by the fist she pounds into her open palm.

“I – I’m fine!” Kagami splutters, taking a precautionary step back.

Riko narrows her eyes at him, height difference nullified by the authority in her expression. “And you better stay fine.” The _or else_ remains unspoken but it is heavily implied with the look she gives him. Having determined the effectiveness of her words, Riko leads her team back to the court.

Koganei smacks Kagami’s shoulder as he passes, a jesting gesture that brings out a smile from his underclassman. Furihata, who has subbed for Kuroko in the last few minutes of the second quarter, nods at him. “We’re counting on you, ace,” Furihata adds before heading out.

Lagging behind the team, Kagami looks beside him with a fading smile. “Kuroko.”

The shorter player side-eyes him while keeping pace, a wordless notion that he’s listening. _What is it?_

“Just…” Kagami averts his eyes, arms squeezed tight to his sides with nowhere to stuff his hands in. “Thanks for finding me.”

Blinking, Kuroko stares at his feet, muttering his response to the floor. “I didn’t do anything, though.” He didn’t have to, Kagami already had who he needed.

“Yeah, you did,” Kagami breathes, equally quiet and timid. His gaze slides over to Kuroko, almost shy, struck by the frown he finds tugging at the corner of thin lips. “Oi.”

Faltering in his steps, Kuroko finds a fist held up to him with Kagami’s assuring smile just beyond it. Kuroko doesn’t understand what it’s for until Kagami nudges him, walking closer to his side.

“Who knows where I would’ve ended up if I didn’t see you there,” Kagami mutters. Finding Kuroko in front of him had been a surprise, but it also served to be a reminder of what should’ve been his priorities. He’s glad that Takao has regained his senses, relieved that the guy has people looking after him, but if he hasn’t seen Kuroko, Kagami knows that he would’ve gone after Takao and he definitely (maybe?) would’ve regretted that.

Mouth slightly ajar, Kuroko customarily raises his own fist to meet Kagami’s. The back of their hands remain touching after the fist bump and with the way Kagami is looking at him – in that very Kagami way of his that lets you know he’s not looking at any one else when you’re right in front of him – Kuroko finally surrenders to that little voice that’s been nagging at him for over a year now.

Kuroko’s hand is cold, fingers thin and pale but no less calloused than his own. Once the initial shock of the gesture fades, Kagami wastes no second in returning the uncertain grip. Not that he expects his own hand to be any warmer but still, he pulls their hands low in between them to make it easier. His hold on Kuroko is secure, proud to have replaced the unsightly frown with a smile.

There are so many things to be said but for now (as it has been for a long time) just knowing that they have each other as teammates, partners, friends ( _and more_ ) is enough. A tangible silence blankets Seirin’s light and shadow for the few short minutes it takes for their team to arrive back on court. Deafening cheers greet them, their audience just as pumped to see the game to its end.


	10. On faith and love and miracles

His thumb hovers over the send button for the longest time. Takao stares at the message, wondering if it was even worth sending since Midorima most likely has no intention of speaking to him forever with the way he’d stormed out yesterday.

It’s six in the morning and he’s still cocooned in warm blankets. He doesn’t feel like getting up today and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d made an appointment with Kise – appointment and Kise being two words he’d never expected to use in the same sentence – Takao would’ve slept until noon. It’s a gray Monday, the worst kind of Monday there is, and it’s not looking to be a good start to the week.

The phone buzzes and Takao nearly drops it to the floor but it’s his stomach that drops (into some transdimensional abyss, he assumes) upon seeing who the message is from.

**From: Shin-chan~**   
**Subject: Don’t bother.**

It’s like a punch to the gut but at the same time it’s a relief that he doesn’t have to explain why he won’t be coming to school. He swiftly deletes the draft message and curls in tighter into himself. Breakfast is a brief affair and when his parents ask why he’s not rushing to school, Takao gives them the short answer of needing a break. They assume it’s because of yesterday’s loss and tell him that one day is fine but to be sure to be back in school tomorrow. Takao just nods around a spoonful of cold cereal.

He’s dressed and out the door by six-thirty. He takes the train to Kanagawa where, sure enough, Kise has a ride waiting for him.

Their conversation yesterday was disrupted by the arrival of Shutoku alumni who had gone searching when they found him and Midorima absent from the rest of the guys boarding the school bus. Kise left him in the care of Miyaji and Ootsubo, all the while making it clear that they were nowhere near done with their talk. Hence the meet-up, since Kise has a shoot in the morning (excusing him from school) and there is a marginally lower chance of running into acquaintances in Kanagawa.

It was nice to catch up with his former captain and teammate. More than that, talking with them cleared up his mind a little on the topic of Shutoku’s captaincy. If they weren’t interrupted by Kagami’s call, Takao would’ve found courage to ask about more personal matters but he’s grateful that he didn’t in the end.

Takao squints at the consecutive camera flashes, wondering how Kise can stand the brightness and heat. He has witnessed at least five costume changes and people all around him are continuously rushing to get the extras lined up for the next shot (and the next one, and the one after that.) Takao appreciates the meticulously maintained model-figures and the costly designer clothes wrapped around them; he breathes in various top-of-the-line perfumes and wonders about the point of it since smell can’t be captured on camera anyway. Kise looks in his direction every so often as though making sure that he didn’t run off – fat chance considering he’s stuffing himself with pretzels at the buffet table. On the whole, the experience did its job of lulling his mind into a false sense of security.

Lunch is provided for but, since the shoot is done, Kise politely declines and whisks Takao off site. The chauffeur brings them to the nearest mall where Kise talks him into having Thai food at his favorite restaurant.

“So how are you faring, Takaocchi?” Kise asks as they wait for their food.

“So and so,” Takao replies, taking too much interest in the tablecloth’s pattern of gold threads sewn into deep reds and purple. “I’m probably at some level of stress-eating but I’m good for the most part.”

“Uh-huh. Have you talked to Midorimacchi at all since yesterday?”

“I was planning to.” Takao meets Kise’s eyes for a brief second before looking over at the draperies. “I was going to tell him I can’t cart him to school this morning because it’s only polite, y’know, I can’t have him waiting on me. But he beat me to it. He said, _Don’t_ _bother_ , and that’s pretty much summarizes where we’re standing at the moment.”

A waiter comes around, bringing their drinks. Kise continues once the guy leaves. “So what are you planning to do?”

Takao’s cheeks puff up and he slowly lets the air out. “Of course I want to fix things but I just… I don’t know where to start.”

“You know, you still owe me the full story on you and Kagamicchi,” Kise grins in contrast to Takao’s pout. “So why don’t we start there?”

Takao’s retelling lasts throughout lunch and carries over to the shopping that Kise insists they must do because it relieves stress or something. They’re at their third store when Takao reaches the end of his tale.

“So then, Tai-chan assures me that Shin-chan _does_ care, and–” He pauses as he pushes his head through the collar of a brightly-patterned sweater, resuming once he’s able to breathe freely again. “I already know those things, of course, but my mind was in such a mess. And sometimes it really helps to have someone that understands.” Takao looks himself in the mirror before opening the door.

“That’s cute,” Kise beams at the sight of Takao’s new outfit. “You have _got_ to get that – No wait, silly me, _I’m_ getting you that.”

Smiling wryly, Takao tries to dissuade him for the millionth time. “You don’t really have to–”

“Oh, but I do,” Kise interjects, looking over at Takao like he would a fond pet. “Try these next.” He hands over an armful of jeans which Takao takes with a shake of his head. When the fitting room door shuts, he calls out. “So you’re like, half-in-love with Kagamicchi.” _Oh, where was Momoicchi when he needed someone to squeal with? Juicy gossip like this don’t usually happen outside of television._

“No!” Takao denies through the door, glad that Kise can’t see the blush on face. He picks out a dark blue pair from the stack of colored denims. “Tai-chan’s just a friend. A really close one, granted–”

“But you said the kiss was nice!” Kise points out, playing with his earring as he wheedles out information.

“Exactly. Just… nice.” Takao’s voice is muffled as he peels off his pants and pulls on one of the pairs Kise had picked out. “Not spectacular, or life-changing, or anything.” What happened _after_ the kiss was definitely more than nice but some things are better left private. And it’s generally better not to think of those kinds of stuff when trying on tight-fitting clothes.

“Poor Kurokocchi…” Kise sighs, smiling when he hears Takao laugh.

“Tai-chan definitely needs more practice but–” Takao wriggles into the denim material, pulling at it until it rests on his hip. He frowns at the bulge of his full stomach, sucking it in before zipping up and buttoning the jeans. “The thing is I brought this whole fiasco on to myself and Tai-chan is just a not-so-innocent bystander that I’ve dragged down with me.”

“So what I’m getting is that you _made out_ with Kagamicchi to _prove_ that you like Midorimacchi more?”

Coming from Kise, it sounds like the stupidest decision anyone could’ve made but – “Yep.”

“Okay.” The fitting room door opens a second time with Takao twisting sideways, trying to see the how the material clung to his legs. Kise goes over to inspect it up close, leaning leisurely on the doorframe as though it was one of those photo shoot props. Meeting Takao’s gaze through the mirror’s reflection, he smirks. “Look at you. Dressing up for a special someone?”

“Oh, you know…” Takao lowers his eyelids halfway, jutting out his hip to check the silver piping running along the side seam. “There’s this luck-obsessed basketball prodigy who is currently not acknowledging my existence and whose friends are out to get me.”

“Hey!” Kise pouts, playful with a slight touch of offense. “You can’t be thinking that I’m doing this out of anything but the goodness of my heart~”

“I know that,” Takao assures the blond. “But I also know that you Miracles have this unbreakable _bond_ and that no matter how much you claim to be rivals on court, you still have each other’s backs. It’s admirable, really.”

Kise goes quiet at that, his mien turning serious as gold catches silver. “In that case, you must understand that whatever Akashicchi may or may not have orchestrated, he’s only doing it because he’s looking after Midorimacchi’s best interest. Kurokocchi’s too, by extension. He wouldn’t go to drastic measures if there isn’t a damn good reason behind it.”

A long moment passes where Takao puts up a brave front. When Midorima says those things, he can’t help but object out of some twisted prerogative to oppose anything and everything that involves the Rakuzan captain. He can sense an intricate history between those two and it irks him that he will never fully understand it; all he can do is wonder and fume about how he will never match up. How can he when he’s giving in to all these insecurities whereas Akashi is always so composed, so sure of what he wants – just like Midorima and nothing like Takao. He groans, deflating in front of Kise. “I can’t believe I’m the villain in my own story.”

Of all the things Takao could’ve said, Kise never expected that. He backs away from the door so that Takao can close it and change back to his own clothes.

When Takao emerges, it’s with a meager smile. “I don’t think I’ll be getting these after all, Kise-chi.”

“I thought I already told you this one’s on me,” Kise reminds him, nudging shoulders in an attempt to bring out a bigger smile from Takao.

“Nah, it’s cool,” Takao assures him, picking up the slew of shopping bags they’ve acquired so far. “You already got me all these other things. If I let you spoil me more, I might be obligated to date you or something…”

Kise’s laugh is pure as he gathers his share of the bags, drawing the attention of every single store attendant (most of them wearing dreamy looks on their faces). “Fix things first with Midorimacchi before we talk about going on dates, okay?”

“You seriously believe I have a chance?” Takao asks as they exit the store.

Kise bestows him an all-knowing look. “And you don’t?”

••••••••••••

The last thing Kuroko expects is a text from Takao asking to meet up after school. He assumes that Takao has sent the message to the wrong number and he has elected to ignore it until a second message arrives an hour later, telling him that Takao is outside the school gates, waiting. Kuroko has half a mind to forward the message trail to Kagami when his phone vibrates a third time, the screen declaring an incoming call.

Kuroko marks his page and vacates his table, slinging his bag over one shoulder as he exits the library and takes the call.

Takao’s cheerful voice greets him the second he picks up. “Kuroko! You weren’t replying so I got worried~”

Kuroko realizes this is as good a confirmation as any. “Takao-kun.”

“Sorry that this is so sudden,” Takao babbles. “But I need your expert advice real bad!”

“My… advice…” Kuroko echoes, feet leading him out the school building of their accord. He hardly considers himself an expert on anything (except passing, of course) to warrant people seeking out his thoughts. “On what subject?”

“Well, I think it’s better if we talk about it face to face.” Takao grins, pushing himself off the brick wall, alerted of Kuroko’s approach. He looks around and beams wide, waving at the other teen. “I’m surprised you’re not having practice…”

“Coach and the other third years were required to attend a career talk so practice was cancelled.”

”Oh okay. Let’s go, then.”

Ending the call, Kuroko pockets his phone and comes up to his visitor. Standing this close, he can see how forced Takao’s enthusiasm is, the faded darkness lining his eyes foretelling the nature of their discussion. Kuroko has an inkling of what this could be about. “Lead the way.”

A couple of blocks from Seirin High School is a play park that’s filled with children in the summer but is relatively abandoned during chilly weather. Takao forgoes the empty benches for the swings, leaning his bike on the main structure. He takes a seat and sways a little, recalling the speech he’d rehearsed on the way. Kuroko takes the swing beside him, feet together as he waits for the other to start.

Mist clouds over his mouth as he exhales, finally skidding to a stop. Takao looks Kuroko in the eyes, his optimism dissipating like the breath of courage he just took. “Considering that you voluntarily joined me, I’m keeping my hopes up that you don’t want me dead. Unlike some people.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Kuroko points out, bland as ever.

“Maybe.” Takao gives a noncommittal shrug. “Let me just get to the point, okay? There is nothing going on between me and Tai-chan.”

Kuroko blinks, slow, trying to gauge the sincerity in that declaration… and that nickname. The playful intimacy of it just rubs him the wrong way.

Faced with stony silence, Takao fidgets. “I mean, not anymore.” He picks out the minute display of surprise in Kuroko’s impassive features and hastily adds, “T-That’s to say, we kind of had this thing – like, we hung out and occasionally played one-on-ones – but there wasn’t anything romantic about those times. It was totally a friends thing. Until last Saturday, when Himuro totally ruined everything so we wanted to prove him wrong and maybe there _was_ something not-so-platonic about what happened but–” Takao realizes he’s word-vomiting and snaps his mouth shut before he digs himself a second (or is it his third?) grave.

“You’re being exceptionally vague, Takao-kun,” Kuroko comments after a beat of silence. The winter is slowly dwindling down to spring and soon, fresh grass will poke out through the icy sheet at their feet. He recalls the warmth of Kagami’s hand around his own, drawing forth strength. “Let us do this properly, I will be asking the relevant questions and you will answer. Is that agreeable?”

Takao nods.

“When did your involvement with Kagami-kun start?”

“Late last spring. After that game when Tai-chan and the Miracles played three on three and it went to a double overtime.” Takao found that it easier to come clean when Kuroko is leading the conversation. Unlike Kise who wants every single detail, Kuroko’s interrogation is more objective… almost detachedly, so. Takao wonders what it would mean on Kagami’s side of things. Their conversation last night was brief, though it might be a result of their respective losses taking its toll. Still, it was touching how Kagami continued to worry about him and he kind of feels bad now for finding solace in it.

“And it started because…?”

“Because we were stupid?” Takao decides to take a stab at lightening the mood but it falls short of bringing out more than a brief glint of amusement in Kuroko’s eyes. Averting his gaze, Takao continues. “That and we kind of had… a problem… with you. Not _you_ , specifically, but more of… the Miracles… in general.” Kuroko’s silence prompts him to elaborate. “I can’t speak for Tai-chan, but for me it was jealousy. I see you guys together – all your walls unguarded – and I can’t help feeling left out. I know my limits, I know where I stand but most of the time it just hurts to know that I will never be at your level.” He pauses for a breath and pushes off for a lazy swing, eyes up at the purple-orange sky. “I will never hold the same place in Shin-chan’s eyes. This Generation of Miracles is something exclusive and I think, even if it’s generally agreed that Tai-chan belongs with you guys, I think that he feels like an outlier. Just like me.”

Kuroko had never considered that Kagami would be feeling lonely. Kagami is quite popular, as far he knows, though initially intimidating and afflicted with a basketball-centric mindset. The Kagami he knows is never without a hidden smile and is always up for a challenge, he doesn’t have enemies because Kuroko is certain that whatever rivalries Kagami has it’s rooted in good and trusty sportsmanship. So Kagami has rivals, teammates, friends, he has a mentor, a brother, he has Kuroko; for him to be lonely is simply unimaginable but apparently he is. And it is to Takao, of all people, that Kagami has chosen to reveal this secret.

“But as I’ve said,” Takao speaks up when Kuroko’s pensive silence stretches out too long. “We’re just friends now.”

Kuroko perks up, uttering his question to the darkening grounds. He thought they had made progress yesterday, him and Kagami. The Kagami that stood on court for the final half of the game is every bit the man that Kuroko has come to love. Even in defeat, after they have given their all for a chance at the championship, Kagami held his head high and Kuroko was proud to stand beside him, as is his rightful place. “What about before?”

“ _Before_ is something that will never happen again.” Takao chooses his words carefully, aware of the focus lurking underneath the shadows of Kuroko’s features. “We had a… shared understanding and got a little bit too involved no thanks to his meddling non-brother. So now I’m paying the consequences and I really need your advice.”

“Does this have anything to do with your talk with Kagami-kun before our match with Rakuzan?”

A mirthless laugh escapes Takao. His swing slows to a stop and he fixes Kuroko with a sober gaze. “You saw that photo from Saturday, I assume?” At Kuroko’s nod, he continues. “Figures. Everyone else did, assumptions were made and things got messed up. Long story short, I had a fight with Shin-chan after our game yesterday and, well, Kagami had become my go-to person for specifically Miracle-related problems… So I went to him and he talked some sense into me and when we were hugging it out Shin-chan saw us.” Takao shivers at the memory of green eyes alight with fury staring him down. His grip on metal chains tighten, coldness seeping into his hands. “I don’t know the first thing about getting Shin-chan’s forgiveness.”

Kicking off, Kuroko opens himself to the night air’s embrace, hair whisked about his face. Only the sound of the swing’s creaking joints break the silence between him and Takao who has followed suit. It’s liberating to finally get the full picture even if it does little in clearing away his uncertainties. Breath fogging, Kuroko slows down and Takao does the same. Their eyes meet. “I’m sorry, Takao-kun, but I cannot say for certain what kind of apology would be most acceptable to Midorima-kun.”

“But – you went to middle school together! You were on the same team for three years!” Takao exclaims, distraught. “Surely there’ve been fights or even disagreements of some sort!”

“There were,” Kuroko admits. “But Midorima-kun is a pacifist and prefers to stay out of trouble in most situations. In any case, the solution lies not on whoever knew him the longest but on the one who knows him best.”

Takao messes up his hair, making a frustrated sound as he does. “Well, shit. I am definitely screwed.”

“And why is that?”

“Because if there’s anyone who hates me more than Shin-chan does right now, it’s probably Akashi,” Takao states bitterly. “Just between you and me, Kuroko, there is no bigger threat to my peace of mind than the idea of Akashi Seijuro’s utter disproval of me being Shin-chan’s partner. Was their breakup really that bad that he can’t move on?”

Kuroko manages a polite smile. “They were never in a romantic relationship, Takao-kun. I will not presume to put a label on what it is exactly but it is undeniable that the feeling is mutual.”

“Then what the hell am I even fighting for?” Takao complains to the descending dusk. The heavy air cloaks him and he kicks at the fallen snow, petulant.

“Only you can answer that, Takao-kun,” Kuroko says, hopping off his swing and adjusting the bag strap over his shoulder. It wouldn’t be fair if he just hands over the answer, not when the depth of Kagami and Takao’s “friendship” had just dealt him a disconcerting awakening. Besides, from what he has seen of the Shutoku tandem, Kuroko is certain that Midorima treats his shadow more specially than the rest. It’s different from how Midorima used to tail Akashi in middle school. With Takao, Midorima has someone to walk beside him – not to lead or to follow but to stand on equal footing. Kuroko expects him to value a person more than his ridiculous lucky items because if Midorima doesn’t, then he wouldn’t be the only losing side in their complicated situation.

Sensing that their little talk has come to its end, Takao straightens up as well. He sighs, “Maybe it’ll come to me in a dream. Anyway, thanks for seeing me.”

“Don’t mention it. Though I have to ask, why aren’t you in uniform?”

“Skipped school,” Takao answers flippantly, going over to his bicycle. “Shin-chan probably doesn’t want to see my face anyway. I had lunch with Kise-chi, then we went shopping – oh, that reminds me.” Takao takes a wrapped package from the basket upfront. “I got you this – actually, it’s more like Kise-chi and I but, anyway – here.”

Kuroko opens the small paper bag to find a pair of cuffs, the dark leather material contrasting against his pale complexion.

“It reminded us of those sweatbands you wear during games,” Takao explains gleefully. “Accessorizing is fun, y’know? Kise wanted to get you a studded pair but I told him there’s no way you’d wear something so flashy… Not yet at least.”

“Thank you for the gift, I’ll find an occasion to wear them properly,” Kuroko says with a tiny grin. “Though I have to ask you not to turn me into Kise-kun’s next makeover project.”

Takao laughs. “Funnily enough, Kise-chi _did_ mention something like that.”

They reach the sidewalk where the pedestrian signal tells them not to cross just yet. Takao sets up his bike, ready to ride off at the next signal change when Kuroko tugs at his sleeve.

“One last thing, Takao-kun.” Kuroko’s eyes gleam with the brisk intensities of passing traffic, warm bursts of lights streaking over his pale features. He’s not sure if he has a right to know but the curiosity in him is burning. Given the nature of their talk just now, he has decided to believe in Takao’s honesty. He also knows now of Takao’s true potential as a rival, so he really _has_ to ask – “In your conversations with Kagami-kun, has he mentioned special interest in… someone?”

Sitting atop his bike, Takao lights up with a smile at the question. “Matter of fact he did.” He lifts one hand from gripping the handlebars and gives his fellow shadow a pat on the head. “Good luck, Tetsu-chan!”

Kuroko goes still at the nickname, a warm flush rising unbidden under his skin as he lets go of Takao’s sleeve in surprise. Names are not supposed to be used so carelessly, so casually, but Takao does it with easy grace and confidence. Traits that Kuroko envies and admires in equal measure. In a blink, Takao is gone, pedaling away with the green lights clearing his path. Everyone else is crossing to the other side, walking fast to reach the adjacent sidewalk before the lights change again. Kuroko pats his hair back into place and moves forward, moves in the opposite direction from where Takao is going, knowing they still have a long road ahead of them.

The third place battle for the Winter Cup is two days away.


	11. Refrain

Midorima wakes from a restless sleep, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an oncoming headache. His chest feels heavy yet unbearably empty at the same time. Climbing out of bed, he puts on his glasses and perfunctorily completes his morning routine. Cancers are faring well today, ranking fourth in Oha Asa’s charts. He needs to find a flower wreath. In late winter.

Putting on a pair of gloves to match his scarf, Midorima feels the ghost sensation of an incoming message. He slips a hand into the pocket of his school bag, taking out his phone with its darkened screen. No new message. Disappointment couldn’t even begin to describe the emotion that seeps into his bones.

When he told Takao not to bother coming over yesterday, he didn’t expect the teen to skip school entirely. Takao’s absence – the empty chair one row ahead and two seats to the right from his place – glared at him the entire day. Of course, everyone from the team _had_ to ask him about their missing point guard since he was the last person they saw with Takao after Sunday’s match; that, and because people can count on one hand the number of times Midorima went anywhere without Takao beside him. Midorima can’t help thinking that it’s partially his fault, that maybe Takao was avoiding him as a result of their less-than-peaceful parting two days prior. He certainly felt guilty enough but Akashi dispelled all his hesitations in one phone call. Granted, it was Midorima who made the call, wrought with anxiety by the end of the day that he missed a staggering 10% of his shots during his solo practice. An empty gym had never felt so oppressing.

Akashi convinced him that he wasn’t to blame, that he didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, he barely did anything. Takao had brought this upon himself, were Akashi’s final words on the matter before they bid each other goodbye. Akashi’s good mood at being a contender for the Winter Cup championship balanced out Midorima’s gloom.

Despite their missing member, the Shutoku basketball team’s practice remained rigorous for their upcoming match; a battle versus Seirin for the Winter Cup’s bronze title. The game is set tomorrow and Midorima knows that there will be quite a reckoning.

He pockets his house keys and exits after bidding his little sister farewell. His parents are both gone by then, having taken early work shifts. The houseboy startles when Midorima steps out the front door; a foreboding feeling creeps up the shooting guard’s neck.

“I tried to tell him to come in but–”

Midorima doesn’t hear out the guy’s explanation, long legs carrying him over to the gate in a brisk pace. For a second, his gaze flickers to the rickshaw parked on one corner of his front lawn, covered by a tarp and a sheen of morning dew after having been left out during the night. Who else could be outside his home at this time of morning? Dismissing the help with a wave of his hand, Midorima pauses before the half-open gate, heartbeats stuttering to a complete halt.

The absent humming from outside stops and Midorima knows he’s been spotted. Both of them hyperaware now of the other’s presence. Taped fingers curl tighter around the strap of his bag. Midorima takes a deep breath and heads out. He’s greeted by a mild fragrance in the air.

Takao stands beside his parked bicycle, posture akin to a soldier facing war. His eyes are bright as ever and his lips can’t quite manage to hold back a smile at the sheer joy of meeting Midorima’s gaze for what feels like the first time in an eternity. His happiness, however, is tainted by a persistent nervousness that has latched itself onto him like a parasite. He receives a nod and takes it as his cue.

Every move is measured, Midorima notes, watching with slight trepidation as Takao steps back and prostrates himself with a sharp bow, all the while holding out a bouquet of dainty blooms held together by a pale parchment-thin wrapper.

“Please accept my humble apology, Shin-chan,” Takao says, arms stretched out, eyes trained on the sidewalk cement. That’s as far as his preparations go. After talking with Kise and then Kuroko yesterday, he consulted further with his little sister at home. From their combined responses, Takao has resolved to make the first move. The flowers were his mother’s suggestion, giving her two cents after having listened in to her children’s discussion. If Midorima rejects him, Takao has no other option but to retreat, lick his wounds, and try again tomorrow. He won’t cry or beg or make excuses for what he has done. He does away with emotional promises that he knows would not be heard. Takao says his piece and zips his mouth shut; he’s done with the proposal, it’s up to Midorima now to dispose of it.

Midorima stares. Kise had messaged him last night about Takao, finally solving the riddle of his shadow’s absence. A part of him felt indignant (offended, even) at knowing that Takao had spent yesterday on a shopping trip instead of facing him like a decent man. It didn’t help that Kise proceeded to send candids of Takao in varying clothes like some sort of make-over montage. Looking at those photos caused him a physical pain he had never thought possible. The Takao in those photos looked happy, or at the very least worry-free, whereas his last memory of Takao was shaded in bitter resentment. Midorima erased all of Kise’s messages in a fit of rage, swallowing down the sense of loss that he felt at every successful deletion. Wanting and not wanting to see Takao at the same time was the conflict that had Midorima waking up at odd hours of the morning. Now that they’re finally face to face, Midorima is filled with righteous fury.

Exactly who does Takao think he is? Showing up with a bunch of flowers like Midorima will be appeased by it, as though he can be swayed so easily like those girlfriends he’d boasted about. A half-assed apology counts for nothing in the face of the gut-wrenching notion of defeat that’s anchored on his limbs, weighing and wearing him down until his proud stature succumbs. He could very well fall into a pit of despair, of absolute misery. Midorima despises himself for allowing such a petty dispute lead to his downfall.

No, he won’t let that happen.

Squaring his shoulders, Midorima intends to deny his forgiveness, to turn his nose up at the sorry excuse of an apology when something strikes his thoughts. He does a double-take at the modest bouquet presented to him. Though it is by no means a shabby display, it is clearly economical and would not go far in winning favors, much less Midorima and his particularities. Yet it captures his attention, he finds it near impossible to look away from the lush leaves and bright floral pigments –blossoms tinted pink, indigo, and cream. Gardenias and morning glories, Midorima notes with slight surprise. Their fresh fragrance lingers in the air, stirring up much more than olfactory memories. A sense of familiarity brushes away his pessimistic thoughts.

Takao is determined not to move, determined to brave the oncoming storm. Midorima’s prolonged silence never leads to anything good but Takao is nothing if he gives up before his fate is decided. He’s still hoping they can move on, move forward from this because – because, well… There’s only one explanation as to why he goes through so much trouble, why his world feels imbalanced right now, why he always, _always_ comes running back to Midorima – his ace, his light, his Shin-chan.

“Are those… from your mother’s garden?”

Midorima cuts through the silence before it goes past the point of awkward, uttering a question so out of the blue it makes Takao’s face snap up in surprise.

Blinking, Takao worries his bottom lip for a second. “Er, yeah. I wanted to get you something from that fancy florist’s at 10th street but store hours begin at nine so…” He trails off, unsure of what to make of the expression gracing his partner’s features. It’s something like anger that’s been staved off and Takao sends a small prayer of thanks to the high heavens.

So it’s homemade. In a sense. Midorima feels a faint flush rise up his neck. He knows how much care Takao’s mother puts in growing her little garden, it’s evident in the beauty of the blooms despite the wintry weather. The floral bunch is plentiful, surely Takao has more sense than to denude the greenery fronting their home.

Midorima carefully takes the bouquet into his gloved hands, the smell reminds him of Takao’s home, of Takao’s little sister shyly greeting him at the door. A teenager’s room rises to the front of his imagination, it’s a disorganized mess of clothes, trading cards, and basketball paraphernalia. Echoes of Takao’s laughter ring inside his head, teasing but good-natured. Midorima recalls with startling clarity the impassioned mien that promised him a roaring pass. He remembers feeling affronted at the same time skeptical, emotions that made a comeback when Coach Nakatani assigned them partners after the exhibition of Takao’s Hawk’s Eye.

He breathes in the fragrance. The cold constriction around his heart becomes undone despite Midorima’s efforts to remain angry. Midorima wishes that he could hold grudges better, Takao probably doesn’t even have any idea what he’s apologizing for but Midorima is already half-way to forgiving him. So much for his steel conviction.

The significance of their partnership – flaws and all – weighs heavy on his mind. Midorima persistently snuffs out any illusion that Takao thinks of him in the same manner. All recent evidence clearly point against him but there is the ever-present uncertainty, the what-if that’s ignited every time they so much as look eye to eye. There’s also the sense of entitlement that shouts down the meek voice of logic – he’s Takao’s partner, the light, the ace. There’s an unspoken understanding that the two of them come in a set and Midorima would like to keep it that way. He hasn't felt this way before Takao; he never enjoyed playing more than when he’s with him, with their team. What if no one else comes into his life like Takao did?

There’s a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Akashi. It’s telling him he could do better, reminding him of how different they really are, how unmatched…

Except, Midorima decides with a grim finality, he does not in fact want anyone other than Takao. Standing outside his home on this chilly winter morning with homegrown flowers in his hand, he is sure of it. Kuroko may be fine with changing his light but Midorima wants no other shadow. He’s terrified of what has become of him but the prospect of not having Takao is scarier. Takao’s smile is no less of a wonder even if he’s now directing it at another.

“Stand up, Takao.”

Now that he doesn’t have a bouquet to hold on to, Takao’s fingers curl into his palm to keep from uselessly fidgeting. His back straightens with a quiet crick, prolonging the moment when he has to look Midorima in the eyes and face his fate.

“Scorpios rank eleventh today,” Midorima states. “We should stop by the antiques store to get your lucky item.”

••••••••••••

Midorima goes ahead to class while Takao parks the rickshaw. A wooden bowl with crane carvings on its surface sits inside the cart. Takao stuffs it into his bag, hastening to follow after his teammate.

Takao doesn’t presume to have been absolved of all his wrongdoings just because Midorima bought him a (supposedly) antique drinking bowl that’s worth at least half his tuition for the semester. No matter how well Takao thinks he already knows the man, Midorima will always one-up him and do something unexpected but somehow undeniably characteristic of him. Being straightforward with his thoughts and emotions had never been Midorima’s strongpoint for as long as Takao has known him (two years plus is definitely a sufficient amount of time to make that conclusion) so Takao works with what he’s got.

Midorima wears the same superior look as he sits on his desk, pen and notebook neatly aligned, waiting for their homeroom teacher to arrive. He’s completely unperturbed by the stares directed at him, more precisely, at the circlet of flowers that’s adorning his head.

“Shin-chan, smile!”

The flash of a phone camera goes off and Takao grins, saving the photo for a rainy day. For now, he’s going to undergo the delicate process of pushing his limits with a certain shooting guard. Takao looks up, finding Shutoku’s ace wearing his patented frown. “You could at least look happy,” he teases. “My mom would be thrilled to know the flowers I picked went to good use.”

A blink as Midorima absorbs that thought. “Alright,” he nods, pinpricks of heat warming his cheeks as he pulls up a slight smile for Takao who gamely takes another photo. Midorima had weaved the bouquet into a wreath while Takao carted him to school, finding that the most convenient way to keep it with him is to wear it on his head. The look on Takao’s face when he turned around hatched butterflies in Midorima’s stomach; those silver eyes are sparkling at him even now. How exactly can he stay angry at this man when he only wants to see him happy?

The bell rings before Takao can coerce him to any more photos. Midorima has a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to refuse. The homeroom teacher arrives and takes one look at Midorima before moving on with a shake of her head.

••••••••••••

Takao makes a mental note to give his mother something extra special on Mother’s Day.

With the tasteful arrangement of flowers around his head and the nonchalant expression he wears, Midorima looks like he naturally blossoms on occasion. He eats his lunch on the rooftop with Takao, as had been their routine ever since the cafeteria had banned his lucky items from its premises to make sure there are enough seats for the rest of the student body. Other rooftop frequenters chose to spend their lunch elsewhere today due to the frosty weather, leaving the area rather private for the tandem.

“I never thought Princess Shin-chan knew how to make flower crowns,” Takao muses from the floor, chopsticks dangling from his lips. “It fits you almost too well.”

“It’s a wreath,” Midorima insists with an annoyed tick of his brows.

“But since it’s on your head, that makes it a crown,” Takao points out, clicking his chopsticks to punctuate his statement. His head lolls back to look up at Midorima who is seated on the parapet. From this angle, Midorima could be mistaken for some fantastical creature, the blessedly blue sky above him only adds to his charm. Midorima gives him a look of strained patience, Takao wears a pleased smile in return.

“Honestly.” Midorima looks away, pushing his glasses up as he does. “If you want to copy my notes from yesterday just say it.”

Takao grins. Hawatari-chan has already volunteered her notes (and even her answers for their assignments) earlier and Takao had gratefully accepted them in exchange for joining her and some friends at karaoke on Saturday. Still, it’s a rare offer from Midorima and Takao just can’t get enough of him; he’s on a mission to wheedle his way back into his light’s heart with everything he’s got. “I’m not worthy to look at your writing, Ace-sama,” Takao jokes. “But if you’re still feeling generous, there’s something I want to ask.”

Green eyes survey the shorter teen for a long second before Midorima finally acquiesces. “Go on.”

A deep breath. Strands of dark hair are swept over silver eyes by a passing breeze. “Tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me, Shin-chan.” Takao’s smile drops in self-depreciation. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you’ve found purpose for the flowers but I still… I didn’t mean to hurt you.” _You have no idea how much I wanted to have that with you, to have you holding me instead but I’ve already ruined all chances for that so –_ “I want us to be okay again.”

Putting down his lunch box, Midorima suddenly feels like he can’t stomach any more of the home-cooked meal. Takao is never this serious unless faced with dire situations and Midorima can’t escape him if he tried because if he is to be perfectly honest, Takao isn’t the problem here…

Midorima can’t even begin to put into words how affected he is – the measure by which he’d come to expect Takao’s companionship has been seriously underestimated; companionship barely even scratches the surface of the feelings that Midorima stubbornly avoids addressing. What’s clear is that Takao wants to make amends, that he never intended to cause him any distress – how could he fault the man for seeking another’s affections when he hardly shows him anything beyond platonic interest? Midorima had seen it coming from miles away but chose to act blind and hope that his denial and inaction would keep Takao from wandering. It was so very foolish of him. His prideful miscalculation had sealed his fate, bringing upon him the drastic realization that he has not, in fact, done his utmost best in such a fragile situation. Takao shouldn’t be the one apologizing.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Midorima begins, looking at Takao through his periphery. “I shouldn’t have said that. To you.” _Of all people._ “In the locker room–”

“That was my fault,” Takao owns up, shifting so that he’s directly within Midorima’s line of sight. He won’t let this be a replay of the last time. He knows what he’d done wrong and he has every intention to right it. “I was frustrated at our defeat. I wanted us to have a perfect end to this year’s basketball season… That last pass could’ve been our ticket to the finals and I ruined it for the whole team.” _I ruined it for you._ _I wanted put that smile back on your face, the one you wore at the Inter-High when you – we – beat Akashi for the first time._

“But the season’s not yet over,” Midorima says, contemplative.

“And we’re still in the running for third place,” Takao continues with a slight smile. “So what do you say, Shin-chan? I’ll do anything, I promise.”

Adjusting his glasses, Midorima internalizes for a brief moment. What he wants – what he _really_ wants from Takao is impossible. Not to mention that he hardly has anything to offer, neither experience nor desire. Nothing. The only thing for him to do now is – “Accept Shutoku’s captaincy.”

Takao sucks in a breath. Those were the very same words Ootsubo and Miyaji had told him two days ago. No matter how many times he’d protested that he just doesn’t see himself holding the position, the Shutoku alumni didn’t budge. The knowing look in Miyaji’s eyes was actually a little worrisome, now that Takao thinks about it. Looking at Midorima’s determined expression, Takao knows any and all attempts to argue will be futile. He sets down his chopsticks and gets to his feet, standing in front of his ace who’s watching him closely. “I’ll do it,” Takao declares with his shoulders squared. “I’ll step up and become captain. On one condition.”

“I hardly think you’re in any position to make bargains,” Midorima informs him. Nonetheless, he sits up straighter and hears out the request.

 _Ah, damn_. Takao never knows what to do with himself whenever Midorima gives him his full attention. He sees his reflection in those green eyes and his mind short-circuits. _Kiss him. Hold him. Show him all the reasons why you’ll never let him go_. It’ll be so easy to do all of that but the consequences stop him from taking action. “I can’t do it without my Shin-chan,” Takao murmurs, stomping down the urge to cradle that pretty face. Instead, he prostrates himself once more. “Please be my vice-captain. There’s no one better than Shin-chan at keeping me in line.”

For the second time that day, Midorima is faced with Takao bowing before him. Unlike the scenario at his house earlier, this one is less pressuring because Midorima already knows his answer. He extends his arm, catching Takao by the chin and lifting his face so they could see eye to eye. “What a pointless request…”

It’s moments like these that Takao knows with startling clarity how unfair the world really is.

••••••••••••

When asked about his absence, Takao makes no excuses, which also means that he doesn’t say a word about where he’d been. Coach Nakatani very loudly and publicly tells him off, making clear his expectations of an incoming captain, impressing on his player the prestige and responsibilities that come with the esteemed position. Takao flinches many times, never raising a word in his defense knowing full-well that he deserves the lecture. Needs it, more like, so that he won’t make the same mistake in the future.

Once Nakatani has run out of steam, Jenrya ropes Takao into joining practice. They’re doing doubles of their usual drills, solidifying their basics and working out the flaws in the strategy that had failed against Yosen. They end the day by watching the video of Seirin’s latest matchup versus Rakuzan, discussing with possible plays to counteract the schemes executed by their upcoming rival.

The video is paused and rewound with the coach talking them through the new pattern Seirin had used to break past Rakuzan’s defense in the middle of the third quarter – the game-changer that gave Seirin a fighting chance.

Midorima is seated beside the rest of the starting five right in front of the TV, his gaze pensive and calculating. On screen, Kagami charges and makes a successful dunk, giving his team its first point for the quarter. A quiet hiss beside him draws his attention – Takao is leaning forward, eyes gleaming with delight, the name of Seirin’s ace pulling his lips into a smile.

The sight makes Midorima’s heart yearn. His left hand twitches, reaching for his lucky item but finding it gone from its perch. It takes him a second to remember that he had placed the wreath in his locker for safekeeping – the constant motion exercised in Shutoku’s training wouldn’t have done much good to the already wilting blooms.

“Hey.”

A soft nudge on the knee alerts him to Takao’s inquiring gaze. Midorima engages him in an undertone to avoid disrupting their coach’s lecture. “What is it?”

Takao almost let slip how awesome it would be for them to go up against the reinvigorated Kagami dashing across the screen. Seeing the dismal performance during the first half, it’s painfully obvious that he’d caused all that trouble. Not to say anything of Rakuzan’s impregnable playing style that has once again infected Takao with envious admiration; not only is Akashi the perfect point guard, he’s a commendable captain to boot. It’s a depressing game to watch but come the third quarter (once he’d cleared himself with Kagami during their halftime call) the Seirin team gets back in form and Takao breathes easier. It’s still unclear to him what Midorima thinks of Kagami – they have pointedly avoided the subject so far – but just now it looked like there’s something that’s bothering him. It’s not there anymore, though, and Takao knows to tread lightly now that they’ve only just made up. To answer Midorima’s question, he shakes his head. “Nothing. You’ll wear the flower crown again on the way home, ne?”

“Of course.” Midorima will never tell him but he rather misses the fragrance the blooms provided, even if it is inevitably meant to fade.


	12. So this is...

The hustle and bustle of the dormitory’s morning rush is muffled once Himuro closes the door behind him. The soon-to-retire captain of Yosen’s formidable basketball team pads into his room, drying his wet hair with a towel and disposing of used clothes into the laundry basket along the way. Plopping down on his still unmade bed, Himuro picks up his phone to find two new messages waiting. Himuro smiles as he reads Murasakibara’s confirmation of bringing over breakfast, replying with a smooching emoji before moving to the next one.

 **From: Alex**  
Subject:  <none>  
:: Heyy! Get online ASAP!

Eyeing the message’s timestamp, Himuro sees that he is a few minutes late in reading it. He picks up a hair brush on the way to his study desk, sliding the wireless mouse across the surface to revive the laptop from sleep mode. As he waits for his account to sign in, Himuro fixes his hair with a towel wrapped around his shoulders to catch any wet drops that might soak into his tank top. While it is an uncontested notion that Himuro is meticulous about presenting himself, he doesn’t find any need to hide his imperfections from Alex.

A video chat invitation appears the second Himuro puts his brush down, he accepts it and greets Alex with a smile. “Good morning, Alex… rather, good afternoon.”

“Well don’t you look excited?” Alex’s image on screen gives a wide grin, speakers delivering her words without the usual static. “Slept well?”

“Surprisingly, I did,” Himuro reveals as he dries the fringes of his hair with the towel. “I thought I’d be nervous but… I’m frightfully calm.”

The warmth of Alex’s expression isn’t lost despite the pixelation on screen. “That’s good to hear. I was worried that you’d be losing your cool before the match even starts but… I’m glad. You worked hard to get this far, Tatsuya. What a way to end your high school basketball career!”

“Alex…” Himuro chides gently and the glee in the blonde’s expression chips off a little.

“Are you sure you don’t want to pursue this professionally?” Alex lays down her question in a motherly fashion. “You have the skills and the means to do it, Tatsuya. I know how much you love playing, so why…”

“I already told you why,” Himuro reminds her, placating.

Pursing her lips, Alex concedes to Himuro’s stubborn stance.

“I’m not going to quit playing altogether.” Himuro sends a smile in hopes of lifting up his dejected master. “It’s just going to take a backseat while I get a university degree. I am aiming for a financially stable future, you know?”

At this point Alex isn’t even hiding her pout. “Ahh. Why couldn’t you have stayed young and impressionable?”

“You can still work on Taiga, y’know?” Himuro says breezily. “He’s _very_ impressionable.”

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Alex’s next words come out sly.

Himuro checks himself not to give anything away, tucking back strands of hair over his right ear. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Aha!” Alex smirks in triumph, pointing her finger at him (well, at his image on her screen, at least). “You did the thing! You _always_ do that hair thing when you’re avoiding something.”

Maintaining his composure, Himuro opens a web browser and checks his email while keeping the chat box on top. “Enlighten me.”

“Taiga told me all about what you did,” Alex presses.

“Uh-huh, for his problems to reach the other side of the globe must mean he’s in really big trouble.” Himuro raises a brow in amusement. “So. What’s his side of the story?”

Alex is stalled by a sense of déjà vu. It brings her back all those years ago when she had to get in between middle school squabbles. Looking at Himuro now, Alex finds that her protégé hasn’t really changed one bit. “You meddled with his love life again.”

“It wasn’t going anywhere.” Himuro shrugs unapologetically. “He should be glad I gave him options. You know how blind he can get especially when good things are already right in front of him.”

“Still!” Alex crosses her arms to counter the young man. “You have to let Taiga pursue who he wants at his own pace.”

“Who he wants and who he needs may well be very different people,” Himuro says evenly.

“Tatsuya…”

Himuro sits back. He hates that tone. It’s the one that makes him double-think every intentional foul, the one that made him accept the one-sidedness of his affections for Taiga. Alex has a way to talking to him and Himuro regrets being so eager to listen to everything she said back then that makes it impossible for him to tune her out now. The most recent and memorable incident with that tone was when Murasakibara confessed to him at the start of the year and Himuro turned to her for advice. Alex had given him a good earful on how to let go of past failures and to let himself have another chance at happiness.

“Alex…” Himuro sighs but before he can say anything more, a series of knocks break the standstill. He cranes his head back and excuses himself to get the door.

“Muro-chi~n, good morning~” Crossing the threshold, Murasakibara bends down and gives Himuro a kiss.

It’s little more than a brush of the lips but the sensation of it still warms him to his core. Himuro’s ears redden as he reprimands the younger teen. “Atsushi, what did I tell you about getting dessert before proper meals?”

“Nn…” Murasakibara averts his gaze, unrepentant and even hiding a little smile. “I brought katsudon…” He presents the warm takeout box that’s been hanging off his hand. “There’s also miso soup and jellies and some extra rice…”

Himuro closes the door as Murasakibara proceeds to dictate their breakfast menu.

“Who’s that, Tatsuya?” Alex’s voice drifts over from the main room.

Murasakibara looks over at the laptop and beams. “Alexa-chin!”

“Oh!” Alex leans closer to her monitor as if to see past the constraints of the web cam. “Murasakibara! How’re you doing?”

“’M fine…” Murasakibara answers as he sets their food down on the study desk since there’s no other table in sight. Himuro picks up the laptop and places it on the bed.

“You brought Tatsuya breakfast? How sweet!” Alex gushes and Himuro has half a mind to disconnect the video call before she spouts something more embarrassing. “So? Are you excited for the game later?”

Looking over at Himuro, Murasakibara gives a slow nod. “It’ll be my last game with Muro-chin so… I’ll definitely make it count.”

Himuro freezes in the middle of sorting out the take out box contents. His blush returns twice-fold and he realizes it’s a two-way assault.

Cooing, Alex cradles her cheek on one palm. “Oh my heart! Just for that I’ll add a dozen more chocolate bars in my next mailing!”

“Yay!”

“What?” Himuro looks incredulously between the two before directing a scowl at the American. “Alex! I told you to stop sending useless things! Are you _trying_ to give him diabetes?”

“I’m showing my gratitude here,” Alex says with an air of superiority. “It’s a thank you package just for Murasakibara, anyway.”

Himuro’s visible eye twitches, already dreading the answer to his question. “And you’re giving him sweets, because…?”

Murasakibara raises a hand, still giddy at the prospect of getting imported candy. “I gave her Masako-chin’s number!”

“Teehee!” Alex claps her hands together.

“Oh dear…” Himuro shakes his head, eyeing his boyfriend with a look that’s a cross of pity and adoration.

••••••••••••

Kuroko catches up to Kagami who has obviously slowed down his jogging. It’s a bit annoying that his partner felt the need to do that but he knows that the gesture isn’t meant to be patronizing. They’re rounding up the corner to Kagami’s apartment, anyway, thereby ending their circuit.

Unlocking the front door, Kagami eyes Kuroko who is leaning against a pillar, steadying his breath. “You’d think after all this time, you’d be able to match my pace,” he comments, smiling as he holds the door open for Kuroko. He pulls off his shoes at the entry way and heads straight for the kitchen in his socks.

Kuroko grabs a water bottle from the side pocket of his gym bag and follows Kagami further in. “I can’t afford to overexert myself right before our game,” Kuroko states, planting himself on a barstool around the island counter.

“Right. And speaking of, that means you need a heavy breakfast to store up on energy,” Kagami declares as he ties an apron around his waist. The ingredients have been thawing out while they jogged. Kagami grabs some pans from their space under the sink so he can start cooking.

Soon, the heavenly smell of toasted waffles and sizzling bacon fill the air. Kuroko sighs, watching Kagami cook enough dishes to feed a small family. It’s been a long while since he had Kagami’s cooking and while the serving sizes tend to leave him bloated, Kuroko is slowly getting accustomed to the taste of “American” food.

They eat in companionable silence, for once not disturbed by Kagami’s shrieking when Nigou rubs against his leg under the table. Nigou is sick with a case of the sniffles so Kuroko had to leave him at home under the care of his mother who’s on her day off. Kagami makes Kuroko finish two waffle squares, refusing to budge even in the face of Kuroko’s lame attempt at using puppy dog eyes. After they clear the table, Kagami takes the first shower while Kuroko loads the dishwasher. He takes out the tableware Kagami has forgotten to unload and puts on a new batch for washing. Pulling aside a chair to use as a ladder, Kuroko stores the cleaned tableware on the cabinets above. He knows the arrangement of Kagami’s kitchen better than his own, which is why he pauses in the middle of his work upon noticing something amiss.

Nestled in the midst of Kagami’s growing collection of drinking cups – which includes a big red mug almost the size of a regular soup bowl, Himuro’s black mug intended solely for hot chocolate as indicated by the tiny marshmallows parading around the lip, Alex’s red and white UCLA mug set, a gag gift from Aomine where the blue tint fades into a picture of Touou’s ace giving him the finger – is a new one. Kuroko picks it up, blinking at the English text printed on the white ceramic body, it declared in black capitalized text – I SEE GAY PEOPLE.

Another gag gift? Kuroko thinks it most likely and returns the mug where he found it. He waits out the dishwasher, its low humming filling in the silence as he goes over his itinerary for the day.

The team will be meeting up at the school gates where vans provided by the administrative board will transport them to where the Winter Cup stadium. The 3rd place match is scheduled this morning and the championship will take place in the afternoon, following it is the awarding of winners and other honorable mentions. For a brief moment, Kuroko allows himself to daydream, reliving their glory moment at last year’s finals. A smile eases into his expression, reviving the vibrant memory of the look that Kagami gave him after the buzzer sounded, after their last shot swishes through the hoop, after the deciding score is announced for all to hear. Kuroko had gone deaf for a couple of seconds back then but he didn’t need any words. He thrived in the smile Kagami sent his way, sustained by the strong arms that held him in a celebratory embrace and kept him there as the rest of Seirin came onto the court and dogpiled them. They were so close, so close –

“Kuroko. Shower’s yours.” Kagami’s voice echoes from the hall and Kuroko wonders if it’s just his imagination that made it sound so comfortably domestic.

A door closes within the apartment and Kuroko picks himself up. He leaves the dishwasher still rolling and grabs his towel. The bathroom is steaming, mirrors fogged from the hot shower Kagami had taken. Vainly fighting the surge of arousal, Kuroko locks the door behind him and breathes in deep.

••••••••••••

Kasamatsu groans, shuffling under the covers and tossing aside the pillow he’d been using to cover his ears. Today is the one day that he’s mercifully spared from morning classes following a rigorous night of exams. Of course it has to be ruined early on.

“Pick up your damn phone, Kasamatsu!” His roommate yells from the top bunk, followed by a muttering of choice curses. “I’ve got a killer hangover!”

“Shut up,” Kasamatsu grouches, one hand fumbling for the ringing device that’s buried somewhere in his sheets. “You shouldn’t have been drinking on a school night in the first place.” His hand finally latches on to the mobile phone but the ring tone is cut short as he’s bringing it up. With even more grumbling, Kasamatsu glares at the name on his screen, wishing nothing but the worst on the hapless soul that dared to disrupt his sleep.

**3 missed calls  
Kise Ryouta**

Furrowing his brows at the display, Kasamatsu nearly drops his phone when a fourth call patches through.

“Kasamatsu!”

“Fuck off, Shindou,” Kasamatsu snaps before channeling his anger on its rightful target. Pressing the answer button, Kaijou’s ex-captain doesn’t bother with hello. “What can you possibly want at this ungodly hour, Kise?”

To which he gets a preppy greeting of “Senpai!!!” from Kise’s end.

“Get to the point, moron, I’m trying to sleep here.” Kasamatsu slaps a hand over his eyes, wondering why he didn’t change his number when he had the chance.

“Eh? But it’s past seven already,” Kise muses. “You’re supposed to be in class!”

“Same to you.”

Kise’s laugh trickles despite the curtness of his upperclassman’s reply. “Wow, you really are growing old. Today’s the championship for the Winter Cup, don’t you know?”

That gets Kasamatsu blinking wide awake. He actually did forget… not that he’s going to give Kise the satisfaction of being right about it. “Of course. And Coach is taking the team to watch?”

“Yep.”

“Would’ve been better if Kaijou were taking part instead of just watching,” Kasamatsu mutters.

“Don’t be stingy! We tried our best.” Kise’s growing pout is evident in his tone. “It’s just that Shutoku is relentless; Midorimacchi and Takaocchi didn’t show us any mercy.”

“Hn.” Kasamatsu makes a noncommittal sound. This time last year, he led Kaijou against Shuutoku and saw for himself how the King of the East personified their motto. He watched the quarterfinals match last week, hoping that with Kise now in play his old team might stand a chance but it was still for naught.

“If anything, I should be telling you off for fraternizing with the enemy!” Kise huffs, though his tone remains playful. “Just kidding!”

It takes the collegian a few seconds to understand Kise’s insinuation and when he does - “Hey, I didn’t plan on meeting those kids,” Kasamatsu says, annoyed. “I don’t even know how Takao managed to get us all in one place _by accident_.”

“So maybe it’s fate,” Kise chirps. “Ah. That sounded like Midorimacchi just now.”

Kasamatsu stifles a yawn. “Whatever. If you’ve got nothing important to say, I’m hanging up.”

“Ah no! Senpai–!”

“Just get to the point already!”

There’s a second of silence where Kise’s deep exhale sounds over the static. “Touou’s Sakurai sent me a message yesterday… It’s a little troubling and I need your advice.”

Kasamatsu doesn’t realize he’d been holding his breath. He lets it out in the guise of another yawn. “Touou, huh? Go on.”

It’s a dilemma that Kasamatsu has already heard from a different perspective. Still, he listens, patient and supportive, because no matter how juvenile Kise can act sometimes there is a depth to him that only a select few are graced to witness. The genuine Kise, as Kasamatsu knows him, only reveals himself to those who the man trusts in full. Kasamatsu never asked for it but he’s glad all the same.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Kasamatsu queries, propping a pillow underneath his head. Anyone with a sane mind would know to dump a cheating partner but Kise isn’t just anyone. He has surprised Kasamatsu countless times with his unique perspective.

“Sakurai said he’ll stop if I tell him to,” Kise reveals. “Said he’ll even make sure Aominecchi doesn’t fool around with anyone else at their school but…”

_Here goes…_

“Sakurai was crying the entire time.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Kasamatsu remembers how flustered Sakurai had been last weekend. “If he was going to feel bad about it, then he shouldn’t have started it in the first place.”

Kise hums thoughtfully. “You don’t know Aominecchi, senpai. He does what he wants and god help you if you get caught up in it. That’s how he’s always been.”

“So you’re fine with being cheated on?” Kasamatsu clarifies, a little incredulous.

Kise keeps quiet for a worrying number of seconds, then, “Aominecchi never said that we’ll be exclusive in the first place.” Sensing a sermon about to come on, Kise hurriedly adds, “I-It’s not a bad thing! He made it clear from the start and I… I was just so happy to be given a chance that I told him I didn’t mind…”

“Hmmm.”

“Aominecchi is unpredictable,” Kise continues with a tone that Kasamatsu finds too affectionate given the topic of their conversation. “But he isn’t heartless. He treats me right when we’re together so I’m not complaining. I mean, my idol image actually benefits from our arrangement so…”

Briefly, Kasamatsu recalls Himuro’s jesting suggestion. He mentally cringes and shakes his head to clear it. “But now that you can put a face on at least one of Aomine’s other partners, it makes you think of how many others there might be.”

“Yeah…” Kise murmurs. “Still, I don’t want to call it off. In a way, Sakurai and I are the same. I just hope Aominecchi is as happy with Sakurai as he is with me.”

“Sounds like you’re already decided on what to do,” Kasamatsu says, heaving a sigh as he sits up. His legs dangle off the edge of the bed and he rakes a hand through messy spikes of hair. “What did you even call me for?”

“Oh.” Kise sounds sheepish. “I was waiting for you to tell me off.”

“Idiot,” grumbles Kasamatsu. “I’m not going to waste spit on that. Rather, I suggest calling up that Touou kid and clear up things with him.”

“I will,” Kise promises. “I’ll tell him everything’s alright… I just hope that he’s tougher than he looks.”

“And Aomine?”

“I’m meeting up with him and Momoicchi for lunch today,” Kise says, obviously happy and that, Kasamatsu decides, is what’s important.

••••••••••••

The dining room is spacious, opening up to a much wider zen garden outside. Frost swirls over the pond, undisturbed. Minute clinks of fine china break the serene monotony.

At the head of the table sits the head of the house, the morning newspaper folded before him. Propped over the newsprint is his tablet, showing a review of the Japanese stock market side by side with the rest of the world’s. He picks up a dumpling and eats it, eyes never wavering from the screen. His mouth thins as the next display loads and he peruses the negative developments.

Opposite him, Akashi sets his chopsticks at the edge of the plate and wipes his lips with a napkin. Having finished his meal, Akashi excuses himself from the table. Even now, he’d really rather not linger in the same room as his father as much as he can help it.

Crimson eyes meet a strikingly similar pair. A frown pinches at the corners of the senior’s mouth. “Not going to school?” he asks, eyeing the jersey his son is sporting.

“I’m bringing the team to the stadium to see the battle for third,” Akashi states calmly.

“Tsk.” The older man breaks eye contact. “Have you finished reviewing the progress report on our affiliates?”

“I have.”

“Good. You’ll be sitting in on our board meeting, Friday evening. I’ll have Namikawa fetch you from school.” He swipes at the touch-screen with a pointing finger, the gold band around it gleams upon catching the light.

“Understood,” Akashi says out of courtesy. He exits the room and heads straight for the stairs, rigid posture easing somewhat once he’s out of his father’s sight.

“Young Master, good morning.”

Akashi jerks to attention, masking his surprise at the sight of an unexpected presence in his room.

The woman puts the sufficiently fluffed pillow in her hands back on the bed, clasping her now-free hands together.

“Sayaka,” Akashi acknowledges, stepping into the room but not letting the door close. “Where is Hino?”

“Madam Hino is resting today,” Sayaka answers. “She slipped over some wet tiles at the kitchen last night and dislocated her hip. I was sent in her place to tidy up your room.”

“Last night?” And nobody thought to inform him? Akashi presses his lips together, keeping cool. “Has a doctor looked at her?”

Sayaka nods. “We called the town clinic and a pair of medics came over last night. Hasn’t your father told you?”

Akashi keeps his discontent to himself. Hino has been with him for as long as he can remember which is why he has specifically asked for her to be the only one to look after him. She stood as something of a second mother to him, filling the void left by his own mother’s passing. Hino is one of the few people in this household (and in his life, for that matter) that Akashi has entrusted with his truth.

Taking the teen’s prolonged silence as a bad sign, Sayaka speaks up. “T-the medics said that Madam Hino will be back in shape in no time, so you don’t have to worry, Young Master. I’ll be doing her rounds for today so – please allow me to be in your service.”

Despite the cheerful tone and soothing words, a feeling of dread still creeps around Akashi’s chest. Sayaka is new, she doesn’t know and doesn’t need to. A placating smile masks his expression. “Thank you for your dedication, Sayaka. If you have finished with the bed, however, you may leave.”

“But… Your laundry. And the waste bins, too.”

“It’s fine.” Akashi uses just enough authority to dissuade her. “Consider your duties here done.”

Having no choice but to follow such orders, Sayaka bows respectfully and makes to leave. She stops short of the door.

“Sorry to cause you any inconvenience,” Akashi says, eyeing the help from his periphery. “I know you’re just doing your job but I only trust Hino in overseeing my room. No offense. Kindly let all the others know that no one is to enter here. The place can stand not being meticulously cleaned for a day or two.”

A natural curiosity begs Sayaka to ask why but she decides against it in the end. The young master’s orders are absolute. “Of course.”

Akashi nods as she finally closes the door. The sigh of relief resounds loudly in the now empty room. In the silence that settles around him, Akashi walks over to the bedside dresser and unplugs his phone that he’d left charging over breakfast. The interface lights up with a new message notification. URGENT, the subject line exclaims and Akashi wastes no time in reading its contents. By the end of the short message, a fond smile has cracked through Akashi’s carefully constructed façade.

_Oh, Shintaro._

••••••••••••

“Shin-chan, seriously, get your butt out of there!” Takao’s reprimand ends in laughter as he coaxes his partner out of the school bus that had been their ride to the sports stadium. He stands outside, right under Midorima’s window like some olden suitor beseeching his beloved… which is actually not that far from the truth.

“Don’t tell me he’s getting cold feet,” Kinoshita whispers to Takao, brows crinkled in disbelief.

“Nah, nothing like that,” Takao grins at his teammate. “It’s his horoscope for the day. Something about Cancers faring too well and stuff.”

Kinoshita shakes his head, looking up at Shutoku’s ace through the windows. He never understood the guy’s obsession with his luck and whatnot. In any case, shouldn’t Midorima act more ecstatic since his sign is apparently topping the charts? “Well, he’s gotta get off the bus sometime this century.”

“Hehe, leave it to me.” Takao claps Kinoshita’s shoulder, “Tell coach and the others we’ll be with you soon.”

“Sure.”

The bus driver hardly spares Takao a glance, busy with doing the morning paper’s crossword over the steering wheel.

Takao plops himself on the empty seat across the aisle from where Midorima has holed himself up against the window, narrow eyes focused on the mobile in his hands. “Oi, Shin-chan…”

Finally, Midorima looks up at him. “I’m meeting up with Akashi to get my lucky item,” he states. “Do you want to go ahead or…”

“If you don’t want me around–”

“It’s not that,” Midorima quickly dissuades his partner. “I get the feeling that the two of you don’t get along swimmingly…”

Takao’s grin exposes his teeth in a not entirely friendly manner. “I’ll behave. ‘Sides, I don’t know what I’ll do if he kidnaps our ace right before the battle for third.”

“Akashi would never–” Midorima is interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. He flips it open and scans the new message, looking back at Takao. “He’s here.”

“Let’s not keep the emperor waiting, then.”

••••••••••••

Akashi stands outside the southwest gate, gripping the handle of an old yet well-maintained suitcase. His varsity jacket is zipped up, body leaning back against the wall where framed posters of previous sporting events are displayed. He looks up upon hearing his name, brows arching when he sees who Midorima has brought with him.

“Shintaro.” Akashi appraises the shooting guard in greeting before moving on to the other teen. “And Kazunari.”

Takao’s smile goes frigid for a split second. “Yo.”

“Thank you for lending me your shogi board on such short notice.” Midorima steps up and Akashi deposits the dark leather suitcase into his hands.

“It’s no bother,” Akashi assures him with the slightest smile. “Anything to help.” Slipping his gaze past Midorima, his smile peaks seeing how much Takao fails to appear unaffected. “You should check inside to see if it truly fits Oha Asa’s criteria, Shintaro. I brought the set that I thought fit your description but I can’t be too sure.”

Midorima gives a jerky nod, settling on the empty bench a couple of steps away and undoing the suitcase’s latches. A polished wooden board takes up most of the space inside, surrounded by velvet cushioning and kept in place by leather straps. A compartment has been set for gleaming ivory pieces with ebony ink inlaid on the engraved kanji.

With their mutual friend sufficiently distracted, Akashi turns to Takao, offering a chastising smile. He clasps his hands behind his back, benevolent. “You’ve been causing Shintaro a lot of trouble recently.”

Takao meets crimson eyes, an involuntary chill wracking his spine at the memory of a piercing golden stare. Keeping his chin up, Takao maintains an even tone. “It’s our problem to solve.”

“Indeed,” Akashi agrees with a condescending air about him. “But the frequency with which Shintaro has come to call on me for advice is worrying… He is a dear friend, you understand?”

Before Takao can come up with a reply, Midorima joins them. His calm expression indicating his satisfaction at the borrowed game board. “We should be heading back,” he says, coming between the two point guards. “Takao.”

“Sure, Shin-chan.” Takao agrees, wresting his gaze away from Akashi. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his varsity jacket, putting on an easy smile.

“I’ll find time to return this to you,” Midorima nods at Akashi.

“Of course.” Akashi looks like he’s still about to say something, rendering the other two unable to leave. “Ah, yes. Shintaro has informed me of your promotion Kazunari,” he smiles pleasantly. “Allow me to offer my congratulations.”

Takao stares at the hand extended to him. He took on Shutoku’s captaincy for the next year less than twenty four hours ago. Briefly glancing at Midorima, Takao deflates at the expectant look directed at him. With all the sincerity he can muster, Takao reaches out. “Thank y–eaoww!”

Akashi jumps back and so does Takao, hands balled into fists and held as far away from the other as possible. Red clashes with silver, brows furrowed in surprise and suspicion. Midorima looks between the two of them, blinking. “Um.”

“Static,” Akashi says without any prompting, fingers still twitching from the unexpected jolt.

Takao shakes out his hand, bewildered. His heart is gently pounding. “Was that divine intervention or what?” he cracks his joke with a half-hearted grin in Midorima’s direction. Running his hand through his hair – no static – Takao maintains an aloof expression when he faces Akashi once more. “Anyway, thanks. For the lucky item, as well. Now Shin-chan can finally focus on the game. You have no idea–”

“Oh but I do,” Akashi cuts in politely, finding his new footing in the disrupted balance. “We had a practice match back in middle school where he refused to participate because his lucky item was this comic print underwear. The store didn’t have anything his size yet–”

“I think that’s enough, thank you,” Midorima says through gritted teeth, face blotched red, eyes hidden behind his glasses. “We really must go.” He turns on his heel and walks away. “ _Takao_.”

There’s a desperation in that tone that makes Takao snicker a bit longer. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He makes to follow but for a split second he’s held still by the look of genuine amusement on Akashi’s face. At least, Takao _thinks_ it’s genuine; it’s different from the patronizing look he’d been on the receiving end of for as long as he remembers, at least. The look dissolves as soon as Akashi catches him and Takao decides it best not to dwell on it.

Akashi watches them leave, watches the way Takao bounces with every step, how Midorima’s hasty pace slows so they’re walking side by side.

Every time, Akashi hopes that there will be a moment when Midorima would look back at him again – wait on him like he did in middle school – but he never does. He’s solely fixated at the buzzing ball of energy that orbits him, spewing frivolous words and poking at his defenses under the guise of friendship. Akashi isn’t fooled, though; nobody ever does things purely out of the goodness of their hearts. Takao has long earned Midorima’s attention and for him to keep pushing only means that he is after something more. Akashi cannot understand _how_ Midorima bears with it; the man is known for his impatience, after all. Either Midorima has built up tougher walls or he has completely surrendered to the inanity. Whichever it is, Midorima doesn’t look like he minds Takao’s constant barrage very much.

For all the complaining that Midorima does to Akashi, it’s evident that he still prefers to have Takao beside him. It is most pitiful, the way Midorima holds himself back from outright declaring his affections for his partner. More than once, Akashi has been tempted to intervene (and maybe he did give Murasakibara a call before the semis) but there’s a line that Akashi dares not cross – for his own sake – because his involvement needs a limitation or else he might lose control of his own emotions.

••••••••••••

The referee calls on the players to line up, facing each other at the half-court line. Hyuga and Jenrya shake hands, wishing each other a good game. The captains bow and the rest of their respective teams follow-suit.

Midorima steps up for the tip-off, brimming with confidence now that his lucky item is on hand. From the Seirin side, Kagami takes his place opposite Shutoku’s ace. Everyone else disperses to get into their starting positions. The referee dribbles and catches the ball with one hand, a split second before he releases it Kagami finds Takao. He nods and Takao grins back.

The whistle blows and the battle for third begins.


	13. The sum of all things

“It’s only the third place match but they’re still giving it their all,” Momoi comments from her vantage point at the stadium bleachers with the rest of Touou. “It’s amazing.”

Beside her, Aomine lets out a yawn. “It’s boring,” he declares. “I wish they’d get it over with already.”

“Under the usual circumstances Seirin should’ve dominated the game by now,” Wakamatsu chips in. “But as expected, their core isn’t as stable ever since the Iron Heart was officially out of play. It’s a shame, really.”

On the other side of Touou’s retiring captain, Sakurai is finding it difficult to focus on the game.

Kaijou occupies the column right next to theirs and Kise is effortlessly shining bright as ever. He’s laughing and bonding with his teammates, giving no hint of any problem he might have. Sakurai dearly wishes he’d kept his mouth shut but his conscience was eating away at him and he had to confess before he lost his mind. He was fully prepared to cut off all non-platonic ties with Aomine and it completely threw him off when Kise e-mailed him earlier saying that everything is fine, that he can still be with Aomine.

Sakurai didn’t believe it. He _still_ can’t believe it. Considering Kise’s high spec status, it’s unthinkable that he’d be willing to share (for a lack of a better term) his partner and yet –

Feeling a set of eyes on him, Sakurai straightens up and looks around. A cold chill breaks out when he meets an amber gaze from the neighboring column. He gives an awkward nod in acknowledgement and Kise sends him a blinding smile. Not for the first time, Sakurai feels disheartened knowing how he just can’t compare to him. Still, the kindness in Kise’s expression eases the tension that’s been festering in the pit of Sakurai’s stomach for the better part of the morning. Slowly, shyly, Sakurai smiles back.

Down on the court, the battle rages on. Every score achieved is quickly taken back, what seemed to be Shutoku’s breakthrough in the second quarter has been squashed by Seirin’s comeback in the third. And now the fourth quarter is drawing to a close with the scores tied at 64-all.

“Substitution!”

Furihata exits, clapping Kuroko’s hand with less than two minutes of game time remaining. The game restarts with Izuki dimly aware of the shot clock ticking away. He dribbles around a defender, thinking fast.

The ball soars in Kuroko’s direction but the rubber barely grazes his palm before he passes it to another player. It goes past Shutoku’s defense and right into Hyuga’s hands. Seirin’s captain goes for a three-pointer but Midorima blocks it just in time.

Hyuga bites back a curse, the momentum of his shot thrown off. Under the basket, Jenrya jumps to take possession of the ball but a different hand gets to it first.

“Uryaahhh!” Kagami goes for a rebound, unstoppable when he slams the basketball in with one second on the shot clock. Seirin leads by two points.

Huffing, Jenrya gets the game back in motion, driving the ball towards the other end. He passes to Hisagi who has escaped Mitobe’s watch. They pass the half-court line but a quick swipe takes the ball from Shutoku.

Takao grits his teeth, too late in warning his teammates of Seirin’s lurking shadow. The soles of his shoes skid on the polished floor as the gameplay is redirected from their goal. His path is blocked by Izuki but Takao manages to slip through thanks to Marufuji who provides a screen.

Shutoku is quick on the defense. Kuroko can’t find any opening to transfer the ball. He has to take the shot but he finds his path blocked by Takao. Sweat mats the other teen’s bangs to his forehead but he’s still smiling.

“You sure know how to make a comeback,” Takao grins, matching the pass specialist’s moves and locking him in.

Kuroko shuffles his feet, dribbling where Takao can’t reach, and he attempts to drive past but a shrill whistle stops him in his tracks. At the referee’s signal, Kuroko realizes he has kept the ball too long. Takao’s defense eases as Kuroko bounces the ball to the referee for the turnover.

Seirin retreats and spreads out to play defense. If they can keep Shutoku from scoring, the third place title is theirs. There’s little more than a minute left.

Takao steps to the sideline to accept the referee’s throw-in. He bounces the ball to Hisagi who takes it forward and leads their fast-paced offensive. The crowd is swayed by the performance, chanting and shouting their support.

It’s 66-64 in Seirin’s favor but Midorima won’t let it end as such. Long strides take him to the perfect shooting distance but Kagami shows up to keep him in check.

Hisagi passes back to Takao, focusing instead on Hyuga. He keeps the Seirin captain from interfering. The Hawk’s Eye finds a route for them to take back those two points. Takao passes to Jenrya who’s within the field goal area. Mitobe solidifies his defense but Jenrya still tries for a tear drop shot. The ball is swatted away before it even touches the rim.

“Gah–!”

The ball is hurtling to the back court. Thirty seconds.

Izuki catches it, carrying it over to attempt another two-points but he’s tailed by Shutoku’s center. Marufuji shoots out his hand, trying to grab the ball but he only succeeds in pushing it out of Izuki’s grasp. The rubber ball hits the court without direction and players from both sides scramble to take possession.

One inch from the borderline, Hyuga gets his hand on the ball and throws it back into play. It slams into Kagami’s palms and the red-haired ace charges towards the hoop. He jumps but two blockers from Shutoku obscure his view; Jenrya swats the ball away.

The crowd goes wild. Twenty seconds.

Marufuji gets the ball but he has barely taken two steps when Kuroko steals it from him. Takao switches from the offensive and pursues the shorter shadow but his path is suddenly blocked by Izuki. They dance around each other, Takao rearing to break past and taking the opportunity when his opponent falls for a fake jump to the left. Swerving right, Takao heads straight for the inner goal area where Kuroko has just released the ball.

It won’t go in, that much is clear. The ball won’t reach the hoop. Ten seconds.

Kagami shakes off his blockers and jumps, grabbing the ball. He makes to score another two for his team but the force of his shot makes the ball bounce away from the rim.

Takao’s heart is pounding. Everything falls into slow motion. The Hawk’s Eye pinpoints the location of everyone else on the court. Five seconds.

He swipes the ball from mid-air feeling blood pump through his body as he propels the ball diagonally in a cross-court pass.

Midorima is ready at the three-point line.

Four seconds. Everyone rushes to the back court.

Three. Midorima’s form is perfect. Kuroko forces his feet faster.

Hyuga sprints the last few feet, jumping with open palms to block a shot that isn’t coming. _A fake?!_

Two seconds. The air is wide open. Midorima jumps. And so does Kagami.

Takao can’t remember whose name he calls out, barely even aware that he’s shouting. In any case, he’s too far away to do anything.

With less than a second on the clock, the ball soars and the referee blows his whistle. The hoop shakes with the ball’s impact.

“Blocking foul. Black number 10.”

The buzzer sounds, the timer a flat zero on the display board.

“White number six. Three free throws.”

••••••••••••

The court is cleared save for Midorima who stands tall at the free throw line. He adjusts his glasses, handling the ball with one hand. Every bounce echoes in the buzzing stadium.

Coach Nakatani sits back, fingers digging into the meat of his arms. His players are on the edge of their seats, not daring to breathe lest it throws off their ace. In spite of himself, Takao’s hands find the leather suitcase with Akashi’s shogi board inside it. He grips the handle tight, a wordless prayer for success.

Midorima shoots and it’s 66 – 65.

Riko holds firm under the growing tension. Her team is somber in contrast to the ringing cheer of the first free throw going in. Kagami is standing still as a statue, knuckles white with the knowledge that there’s nothing he can do. Hyuga has his head bowed, seemingly in prayer. He has a towel over his head and Kiyoshi’s hand on his shoulder.

Two bounces, then Midorima lifts the ball. It soars from his fingers in a perfect arc towards the hoop.

Akashi closes his eyes against the barrage of noise from the pumped up crowd. On the other side of the stadium, Murasakibara’s chewing slows. Yosen’s other ace has his gaze on the sidelines, his lips pulled into a thin sympathetic line. Kise is sure that the final shot will go in and he tells his teammates as much. Aomine doesn’t need to see the results, instead he leans back and flicks his crumpled up ticket at Sakurai to get the teen’s attention. Startled, Sakurai bursts out an apology, tearing up even more when he sees Aomine looking at him.

“I’m sorry for not paying attention!” Sakurai cries. “D-Did you need something, Aomine-san?”

Navy eyes study the brunet for a brief moment and Aomine settles into a lazy grin. “Nothing. Just checking.”

On what, Sakurai can’t even form the words to ask. He averts his eyes from Aomine’s, face growing hot. Aomine has his own way of showing that he cares and Sakurai is slowly but surely learning them.

The referee throws the ball back to Midorima who catches it with a sense of finality. He feels the grooves on the rubber surface, absorbing what little heat it has retained from the intense game. Every eye is on him, no doubt about it, but his focus remains on the basket that’s seemingly calling him forth.

Kuroko leaves the bench, approaching his light with careful steps. Kagami doesn’t stir when Kuroko stands beside him but his tightly-clenched jaw eases somewhat when smaller hands cover his fist.

Silver eyes follow the ball’s trajectory. The swish of the net as the ball goes in pulls him out of his seat, leaving the lucky item behind. Takao rushes onto the court along with the rest of Shutoku’s basketball team. The cool composure Midorima has been exhibiting is crushed under the tidal wave of his teammates’ jubilation. Their supporters from the bleachers go hoarse in cheering on their victory and Midorima thinks he might have gone deaf except…

“Shin-chan…”

It’s nothing close to a shout yet Midorima hears it loud and clear. He finds Takao and emotion wells up in his chest. Midorima none-too-gently pulls free from all the congratulatory pats on the back. He swims across a sea of sweaty limbs and jerseys and Takao meets him somewhere in the middle. They stand one foot apart, staring.

“We won,” Midorima finally says.

“We did,” Takao confirms, giddily rocking on his heels with his hands behind his back.

Takao is trembling like he’s badly holding himself back. From what, Midorima can only guess. Shaking his head, Midorima opens his mouth to comment on it but something just beyond his partner catches his attention.

Takao turns, following Midorima’s gaze. “Tai-chan!” He’s about to head over but then he reconsiders. Grinning, he grabs Midorima by the wrist and pulls him along.

“Takao, what–!”

“Be a good sport, Shin-chan!” Takao smiles, meeting with Seirin’s light and shadow at the half-court line. “Hey!”

“Congratulations,” Kagami mutters, half-assed and with more than a hint of regret in his tone. Behind him, the rest of Seirin are coming up from the sidelines.

“Thank you,” Midorima replies, equally stiff as he pushes his glasses up.

“That was fun, yeah?” Takao jerks his head at Kuroko whose bland expression is lightened by a wan smile. “I thought that it’d be your win for sure but I’m not complaining at the turn out.” Sensing Kagami’s stare, Takao faces him with a teasing grin. “Aw, don’t be like that, Tai-chan! Everybody makes mistakes.”

“I know that,” Kagami huffs, wearing something that’s close enough to a pout. He scratches the back of his neck. “Glasses over there just got lucky…”

“Not _just_ lucky,” Midorima heatedly corrects. “I obtained the day’s lucky item and did everything to ensure my best performance in our match. There’s no question as to why fate has favored me.”

Chuckling, Takao slaps Midorima’s shoulder. “You tell ‘em, Shin-chan.”

Rolling his eyes at the shooting guard, Kagami’s attention zooms back to Takao. “Good work on that last pass, by the way. It’s awesome how you swooped the rebound like that – the ball went straight to the other side and–” Kagami catches himself, feeling his cheeks heat up; the stares from Midorima and Kuroko are telling him more than enough. He flushes but the expectant look on Takao’s face forces his tongue. “I thought… it’s stupid… but I kind of wanted to catch it.”

Takao’s expression brightens at the compliment. “Aww. Maybe next time,” he winks.

Midorima clears his throat.

“Will the members of both teams, please line up,” the referee calls, dispersing the huddle and bringing order on court.

An announcer calls out the final score, declaring Shutoku’s win to the packed stadium. After the customary bow, the players file out in two straight lines.

Kagami sees Takao from his periphery and all the embarrassing words he’d blurted out earlier comes back to haunt him. He couldn’t help himself. They were never shy of complimenting each other when they played one-on-ones, mostly because Takao is too chatty for his own good, but Kagami kind of misses those times. More importantly, there’s a buzzing inside of him that just won’t go away, an adrenalin rush that’s unlike any other.  It’s kind of distracting and for some reason Takao’s presence only riles it up.

“Tai~chan.”

Kagami instantly straightens, throat closed up at hearing that tease of a voice. He glances at Takao, hoping that he can keep a neutral expression because the last thing he needs after losing a match is some stupid epiphany.

“Game’s over, buddy,” Takao says, light and easy. “Stop worrying your pretty little head.”

“I’m not worried,” Kagami lies because he is. He’s suddenly fretting over insignificant details when it’s only Takao. Annoying, bubbly, and cheeky-confident Takao who’s a good player, a great friend and now… “You deserved that win,” he mutters.

Takao blinks at the fist held up to him. He looks confused for a split second then his face breaks out into a sunny smile. His own hand curls into form and he bumps knuckles with Kagami. “Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Ugh. Shut up,” Kagami grouses and Takao snickers in response. “We’re not going to lose next time.”

“Whatever you say, Tai-chan~”

“And stop it with the nickname!”

••••••••••••

Rakuzan makes a big comeback at the championships, overpowering Yosen and ultimately reclaiming their throne. The awards ceremony is held with much fanfare as usual. By the end of it all everyone is dead tired, especially the winners who’ve gone through interview sessions with the media. The coaches call on their players, shouting for them to head for their vehicles so they could all go home.

With the stadium steadily emptying out, Kagami wonders what he’s stalling for.

They’ve lost and the third years have officially retired save for Riko who will continue to coach them until university starts. The speech Hyuga made in the locker room post-game was stern but no less heartfelt. Kiyoshi and the rest of the seniors stood behind him, wearing a look of contentment at what they have achieved together in the past season. Despite this (or maybe even _because_ of it), each and every single one of the underclassmen felt the shame of not being able to give them a proper send-off. And though no one pointed fingers at him, Kagami knows that their loss came at his hands but the thing is… he played the game with all he’s got so he doesn’t have any regrets.

Cheerful whistling comes from around the corner but it gets cut short as it nears the lone player in the hall.

“If you keep your shoulders hunched like that, people might think you’re moping.”

Kagami turns around, telling himself that it’s only surprise that made his heart palpitate the second he heard that voice. “Takao.”

The Shutoku point guard tips his head in acknowledgement. “What’re you doing here?”

“Uh.” Kagami searches for an excuse but upon finding none, he opts to throw the question back. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be hoarded by reporters right now?”

Takao chuckles, sauntering past Kagami. “My five minutes of fame has passed. They’re all fawning over Shin-chan now.”

At the casual mention of Shutoku’s light, Kagami ventures with a question. “So you guys patched things up. That’s great, y’know.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Takao replies, sliding coins into the vending machine that’s right beside Kagami and punching the button for a soda. “I had to woo him with flowers and promises and everything. Ah, my Shin-chan really is a princess~”

“Was it worth it?” Kagami asks, surprising himself with the question.

The canned drink clunks as its deposited and Takao pauses in the middle of reaching down. He grabs the cold can and straightens up with an icy glare.

  1. Kagami quickly makes a placating motion with open palms. “Forget I asked.”



“No, no, you said it,” Takao persists. “And I’m going to tell you that regaining Shin-chan’s trust is worth everything. You have a partner, too, you should know this better than anyone.”

“I do,” Kagami says in earnest because even just the thought of losing Kuroko is enough to give him nightmares. “But that doesn’t make me worry any less. I wanted to contact you – and I should have – but I kept thinking what if Midorima sees and makes assumptions. I didn’t want to cause you any more unnecessary trouble.”

The rigid lines on Takao’s face softens. “Thanks for thinking of me. To be honest, these past few days have been hectic and I barely had time for myself.” Takao moves to lean against the wall. “Sorry I haven’t been in touch.”

“It’s fine.” Kagami shrugs. “With the way you guys played today, I could tell you’re doing better. I just wanted to confirm, is all.”

Carbon fizzles out as Takao pops open his drink, he takes a sip before carrying on. “Is that why Tai-chan’s all alone out here?”

“Er, yeah...” Kagami scratches his cheek, sheepish. “I was hoping to run into you...”

Amusement lights up Takao’s silvery eyes. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you’d like to have – uh, hangout this Friday.” Kagami mentally pats himself on the back for that save.

“After school?” Takao steps closer, licking the corner of his lips to catch a drop of soda.

Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, Kagami is quick to dissuade the shorter player in hopes of getting back some semblance of control over the situation. “Don’t you start,” he warns. “It’s just a congratulations dinner for taking third... which is a pretty lousy achievement but I’m feeling generous so...”

Takao snickers. “So why are you blushing?”

“Am not.”

“You totally are!” Takao is way too amused. He takes another step forward, delighting in the way Kagami defiantly holds his ground.

“If you don’t feel like going just say so,” Kagami mutters.

“No, I’ll go,” Takao says. “You know that I never turn down free food. Dinner, right?”

“Mm.”

“You cooking?”

“Mm.”

“Just you and me?”

Kagami stares at Takao who stands almost chest to chest with him. In that moment, all the white noise in his head gets muted, like he’s entered a vacuum of sorts. He licks his lips and Takao follows the movement with his eyes.

“Tai-chan…”

A shudder goes through Kagami’s frame and he forcibly turns his burning face away. Their position and proximity are mirroring a scenario that is too recent – _and too vivid_ – for Kagami to feign obliviousness. “Damn it, Takao. Get away from me before I fucking kiss you.”

Takao’s eyes go wide but his grin remains. “Pfft. Hahaha. That’s not threatening at all!”

Bristling, Kagami shoots the other guy a glare. “Do you _want_ another riot?”

“No but…” The flush on Takao’s cheeks brightens as he bites down on his bottom lip. “You sure look like you need one.”

“I like Kuroko,” Kagami states with conviction. “And you’re crazy for Midorima. We shouldn’t…”

“Okay,” Takao concedes, smoothly stepping back only to be stopped by a hand around his wrist. He hears a curse a split second before the very mouth that uttered it covers his own. His vision is filled with Kagami’s adorably scrunched up features and Takao is unable to stop his smile from growing. Angling his head for a better fit, Takao cups Kagami’s cheek with his free hand, pressing closer at the same time.

For a reason that escapes him, Kagami finds Takao’s presence assuring. Kissing him just feels so right it can’t possibly be wrong. His hand slides from Takao’s wrist to his palm and the Shutoku player takes the opportunity to return his hold. They part with the taste of fizzy soda lingering on Kagami’s lips.

“See. That wasn’t so hard.” Takao pats Kagami’s cheek like he’s praising a pet. “Though you kind of owe me a new drink now.”

“Huh?” Kagami looks down at Takao’s lead, finding puddles of bubbly caramel-colored liquid trailing the aluminum can that’s lying on its side some feet away from them. “Ah, sorry about that.”

“But not about this?” Takao clarifies, squeezing his hand around Kagami’s.

Kagami looks at their hands, then at Takao’s face. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Hmm.” Takao lets go so he can pick up the fallen can and dispose of it properly. “I still like Shin-chan, though,” he says with his back to Kagami. “And I know that Kuroko likes you.”

“He’s important to me, there’s no doubt about it, but…” Kagami exhales, resisting the notion to come up behind Takao like the couples in Alex’s chick flicks always do. “You’re important, too. I hated not being able to do anything when Midorima left you like that. Being just your friend… it wasn’t enough.”

His chest feels constricted but Takao is calmer than he can imagine. “I’m going to tell you a secret, Tai-chan – last Saturday, it wasn’t nothing. I may be an incurable flirt but I don’t do those things with just anyone.”

“Well I didn’t expect to like you this much, either,” Kagami supplies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So what does this make us, then?”

Takao turns back to him with a gleeful expression. “Boyfriends?”

Messing up his hair to delay his answer, Kagami remembers Sakurai and his problematic relationship. “It’s kind of weird, though, I feel like I’m already cheating on you.”

“I’m not going to tell you to hold back your feelings for Kuroko,” Takao says, moving closer. “That’d be hypocritical of me. So how about this – let’s have that dinner on Friday but with plus ones?”

Kagami mentally berates himself for not thinking of that solution first. “Sounds good.”

“All right.”


	14. Wishing. Wanting. Yours for the taking.

The doorbell rings and Kagami wishes (not for the first time that night) that he had enough hands or even a body double to go around. “Just a minute,” he shouts from the kitchen. After flipping over the patties once he has determined that one side is sufficiently cooked, he focuses his attention to the pot right next to it where rich brown sauce is simmering. Really, he’s putting too much effort in what’s supposed to be a simple dinner.

With that settled, Kagami deems it safe to leave the kitchen. Discarding the pot-holder on his way out, he wipes his hands on his apron before opening the door.

“Mmm, that smells good,” Takao exclaims, drawing Kagami’s eyes to him. “What are you cooking, Tai-chan?”

“I’m done with the rice,”Kagami says, stepping aside to let his guests in. “You guys okay with hamburger steak?”

“That’ll be fine,” Midorima speaks up, the last one to cross the threshold. “We brought an assortment of deep-fried dumplings.”

“And I’ve got dessert.”

“Gyah!” Kagami startles, finding the source of the voice standing right beside him. “Kuroko! Where did you come from?” he asks over Takao’s burst of laughter.

“How rude,” Kuroko not-pouts. “I was with Midorima-kun and Takao-kun all this time.”

“You-!” Instead of finishing his complaint, Kagami grabs Kuroko by the top of his head, ruffling the shorter teen’s hair to diffuse his annoyance. “Ah, whatever. Should we get that refrigerated?”

“That would be for the best.” Kuroko wears a faint smile, looking up at Kagami through his bangs.

They decide to add buttered vegetables to their menu when Midorima complains of the unbalanced diet and Takao finds a pack of corn and carrots in the fridge. Once the table is set and all the plating is done, they find their seats and proceed with dinner. Kagami is voracious as ever and while Kuroko has grown somewhat used to it, Midorima spends a majority of the meal looking incredulously at the numerous servings the redhead piles onto his plate. Takao keeps the conversation going, jokingly stealing off Midorima’s plate when the guy finally gives Kagami a piece of his mind.

“You’re not doing yourself a favor by taking things in excess,” Midorima states, pursing his lips in distaste.

“There’s plenty of food to go around,” Kagami replies after swallowing a mouthful. “Here.” He offers the plate stacked with burgers to Shutoku’s light and Midorima’s frown deepens.

“No, thank you,” Midorima declines, pushing the bowl back on the table. “And would you stop eating off my plate,” he demands of Takao who’s got half a fried dumpling sticking out his mouth.

Kuroko hides his chuckles by pretending to drink. He catches Takao’s eye and offers a polite smile. “Takao-kun, you mentioned that you had a big announcement to make earlier.”

Sucking in his food, Takao chews slowly, aware of how Kagami has gone rigid at the other side of the table. “Well, yeah, though to be fair, it was totally Shin-chan’s fault.”

“Don’t act like you’re the victim here,” Midorima scoffs. “You wanted it, too. Otherwise you wouldn’t have dragged me here just so you could flaunt the fact.”

“I am so confused right now,” Kagami says, feeling hollow around the chest at the Shutoku pair’s exchange.

“Well, of course you are,” Takao beams. “It’s a surprise for you, too.”

Kagami can only hope that he’s not blushing too much. This… This wasn’t part of the program; not that they had actually _planned_ how the night was going to go but… Kuroko briefly looks over at him before turning his attention back to Takao.

“Just say it,” Midorima huffs, trying to appear indifferent but there’s a softness in the look that he pins on Takao.

Smiling sweetly, Takao complies without further argument. “Okay, but don’t be too shocked, you guys.” He eyes Kagami and Kuroko with something similar to mischief. “I…”

Kagami’s heart shouldn’t be pounding so loud.

“ – am going to be Shutoku’s Captain next year!”

“That is good news,” Kuroko compliments. “Congratulations, Takao-kun.”

“Teehee, thanks.”

“Well, you know what this means,” Kagami starts with a cheeky grin. Inwardly, he heaves out a calming breath.

“That you’ll have absolutely no chance of beating us next season?” Midorima suggests, making Takao chuckle and Kagami’s grin fall right off his face.

“I believe what Kagami-kun is getting at is that it’s time to break out the dessert and celebrate,” Kuroko amends, to which his partner gives a loud emphatic ‘Thank you!’

They clear the table and set down small bowls and teaspoons in place of the dinnerware. While Kagami piles the dishes into the washer, Kuroko and Midorima retrieve their dessert. Takao comes up to Kagami, bringing over the hamburger steak platter – the leftover contents of which he’d stored in tupperware containers to be refrigerated.

“Oi,” Kagami mutters to get Takao’s attention alone. “You could’ve warned me about your agenda.”

“What agenda?”  Takao blinks. “The captaincy thing? That was the only excuse I could find to get Shin-chan to have dinner with us. What did you want me to tell him? That I want his blessing for getting together with another team’s light?”

A choked sound comes from Kagami who averts his eyes, bristling. For his part, he first asked Kuroko if he’d like to have dinner Friday night. Once Kuroko agreed, he followed up by asking (rather sheepishly) if Kuroko would mind that Takao and Midorima would be coming over as well. The tinge of disappointment in those blue, blue eyes made Kagami spew out the lamest excuse of building camaraderie over a well-played game. He’s sure that the only reason Kuroko didn’t back out was that he looked so pitiably pathetic.

Seeing the blotched face, Takao brings out an assuring smile. “I think it’s best if you handle that part, Tai-chan.”

“But why do I – I can’t, you can’t expect me to–” Kagami sputters until Takao reaches up and cups both his cheeks with warm palms.

“You’re not doing this alone,” Takao reminds him.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Kagami nods. “Right. Okay. Let’s do this.”

••••••••••••

The vanilla pudding Kuroko bought for dessert is finished in no time, leaving the four of them content to sit back and relax in Kagami’s living room. Rubbing his full stomach, Kagami catches Takao’s nod and he knows there’s no use putting off what they’ve gathered their significant others for.

Takao and Kuroko are occupying the sofa while Kagami and Midorima take the single seats adjacent to them. The coffee table in the middle carries their empty bowls. Kagami finishes up his glass of water before clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“So, uh, thanks for coming over and such,” Kagami begins, looking from Kuroko to Takao, and finally to Midorima who’s directly across him. “Well, uh, this dinner thing wasn’t entirely my idea. But, well, y’see… The thing is–”

“Tai-chan and I have something very important to say,” Takao catches the bumbling introduction. “And because you guys are our respective partners, we thought it’d be best to let you know first. In the name of sportsmanship… or something like that.”

The easy-going expressions on Kuroko and Midorima are replaced by a sudden alertness, keen focus lighting their eyes, their lips pursing into a line. A serious atmosphere blankets the room, all it needs is a crack of thunder to complete the foreboding feeling rising from their stomachs. Kagami looks Takao in the eyes and finds his conviction. “Takao and I are dating.”

The way that Kagami said it made the statement unquestionable. Takao finds his own resolve, smiling as he lays out the answers to the obvious questions without prompting. “It’s a very recent phenomenon and you guys are the first to know. We think that it’ll be fun but, well, considering everything that’s happened lately–” At this, Takao looks between Kuroko and Midorima with a hint of shame. “–we figured it’s in everyone’s best interest to get the situation out in the open.”

There’s an unspoken understanding of the intricate complications that Kagami and Takao’s decision has brought upon them. Takao can feel an aura of betrayal from beside him and he is unable to come up with an excuse for his selfishness. Kuroko’s impassive features remain mostly unshaken but his pale hands are gripping at his slacks with unnecessary force in an effort to remain composed. Their heart-to-heart talk at the beginning of the week is dyed with bitter suspicions.

Across the table, Midorima’s looming presence shrinks until it feels as though he’d wished himself into a black hole. Worry bites at Kagami upon seeing that proud stature submit. The oft jutted chin is tucked low, hiding those piercing eyes behind the reflection of his glasses. He expected the news not to be taken lightly but to actually face surrender is just…

“Do as you like,” Midorima’s steady voice slices the static air.  “Date whoever. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a quick call.” He stands up and heads to the veranda before anyone can stop him. The slam of the sliding door against its frame jumpstarts the remaining three out of their stupor.

Takao’s worried gaze meets Kagami’s. “Tell me I’m being paranoid thinking that Shin-chan is contemplating a shortcut to the ground floor from your veranda.”

“Dude!”

“I know!”

“Should I grab him?”

“No, I’ll deal with him.” Takao curses under his breath, jumping out of his seat and casting an apologetic look at the others that said, _You two probably need some privacy as well_.

With Takao scrambling away, Seirin’s light and shadow are left alone together in the living room. Kagami forces his eyes away from the veranda where Takao nearly breaks through the glass in his haste to reach Shutoku’s ace. Having nowhere else to look, Kagami faces Kuroko and tries his best to manage such a delicate conversation. “You, uh… You know, I’m kind of glad you’re not dramatic like that Midorima.”

Kuroko blinks at him.

Kagami clears his throat. “We weren’t even done with what we wanted to say.”

At the copious use of ‘we’, Kuroko couldn’t stop himself from raising a brow. It’s still kind of a hard concept to process – Kagami and Takao being together. Even weirder is their idea of telling him and Midorima first; that right is usually reserved to one’s parents, after all… Exactly _what_ does Kagami think of him?

Kuroko’s silence is doing nothing to boost Kagami’s confidence. He basically just outed himself to the least tolerable guy he knows and the guy he’s pretty sure is his soulmate. Which is confusing because he’s almost certain that he’s in love with Kuroko and yet the promise of _something_ with Takao excites him as well. Now that they’ve actually announced it, Kagami finds himself pretty damn eager to know what it’d be like – to go on dates, to talk late into the night discussing nothing and everything, to have Takao over and just hangout but now with an added bonus of being allowed to cuddle and maybe make out as they marathon movies on his couch. Kagami wanted all of that with Kuroko… he still does.

“Would you like me to offer you my congratulations?” Kuroko asks, slightly affronted.

It’s like a stab to the heart. All his happy imaginings dissipates in a snap – popped like a bubble that holds nothing but stale air. He _knows_ that getting together with Takao has its consequences and the possibility of growing distant with Kuroko is one of them. It’s the one that Kagami wants to avoid at all costs.

“Don’t be like that,” Kagami reproaches, keeping his sullen tone at the minimum.

“Be like what?”

“Acting cold… This isn’t like you.”

Kuroko purses his lips. The nerve of Kagami to act like he’s the victim here when he’s the one leaving Kuroko for another. “Am I not allowed to feel heartbroken?” Kagami flinches and Kuroko thinks, _Good._ “I don’t intend to change your mind on getting together with Takao-kun so please do not dissuade me from expressing my true feelings on the matter – I had hopes for us, if that’s what you wanted to hear.”

In an instant, Kagami’s hunched figure straightens up; almost like a puppy that has been pardoned after chewing on its owner’s shoe. “Kuroko, I… it’s not too late. You and I…”

And just like that Kuroko’s world slows down with the lag in between his heartbeats. He knows that tone, knows its implications all too well. This is… it’s Aomine all over again.

Kuroko was raised with the ideal of an idyllic relationship, modeled after his own parents’ example of exclusive affections for each other. They were perfectly in love and Kuroko wanted nothing more than to emulate it. He terminated his romantic feelings for Aomine after his previous light told him that he can’t stick to one. It’s not in Aomine’s nature and Kuroko knows better than to go against it. He wouldn’t have been happy had he agreed to Aomine’s proposal for an open relationship and while there was a long period of discontent between them, they managed to patch things up eventually. They’ve become close friends once more and Kuroko is good with that; the feelings are long gone anyway. He just didn’t expect to have to deal with the same thing with Kagami.

This just proves that he really does have a type damn it all. But Kuroko has learned his lesson and this time he’s not planning on letting go.

Breathing in, Kuroko licks his lips, managing to smooth out his expression. “Kagami-kun is greedy… but also very considerate. I appreciate that you have come clean about your relationship with Takao-kun. I am envious, certainly, but there is a mature way of dealing with this and I–”

“You’re not listening to me, Kuroko,” Kagami interrupts in a more leveled tone. “This isn’t some stupid plot to date another guy to make you jealous. This is me laying out my feelings – that I like Takao, that I want to make him happy but if it comes at the cost of making _you_ unhappy then I’d–.”

“What does it matter if I am unhappy?”

“Because you’re – Argh. Because – Takao isn’t a substitute for you and he knows it.” Kagami’s face is competing with the redness of his hair, his chest constricting as words continue to spill out.  “Because no one in this forsaken earth can take your place. Because if I had enough guts, I would’ve asked you out ages ago but I’m just a stupid boy who can’t handle his emotions and I need you–” He stumbles, pausing for a heavy inhale. The rest of his statement comes out in a whisper. “I need you to tell me it’s okay, Kuroko. That you’ll be okay.”

There really is no one like this man, Kuroko muses with a tinge of sadness as he meets Kagami’s gaze. Without him realizing it, Kagami had become his ideal. To imagine a future without Kagami is unthinkable, which is why Kuroko cannot lie. His voice is firm with his reply. “I won’t. I want Kagami-kun, for myself, mine alone.” He reaches for Kagami’s hand, a pang of longing spikes through him when Kagami holds his hand tight. “I, too, am of the opinion that I will never meet another like you. You have made yourself irreplaceable to me, my true light as it stands, which is why I cannot lie to you.” Their fingertips brush as Kuroko pulls away, unable to take any more of the skewed hope this connection offers him. “I am a monogamous man. The thought of sharing you with someone else doesn’t sit right with me. I have no objections to you being with Takao-kun, he isn’t a bad match for you from what I have seen and negligibly underestimated. My feelings for you, however, will not change.”

“Kuroko…”

“And if the time comes where you decide that you cannot be with anyone but me, Kagami-kun, I will be there.” Kuroko smiles, his neutral face alive with emotion. “Until then, I wish you the best of luck.”

••••••••••••

Midorima’s face is cold; he breathes in the chilled air and begins to feel as if even his insides have turned to ice. He’s had his suspicions since the summer training camp and it’s been confirmed time and again. Maybe that’s why he isn’t much surprised at Kagami and Takao’s reveal. He wants Takao to be happy, so he _should_ be glad that Kagami has stepped up to the role but – that should’ve been him. He should be the one to love and cherish and show Takao that he is his whole world except… his insecurities have chained him down. Hyperaware of his own shortcomings, he never believed himself to be able to give Takao what he deserves so he should be happy that Takao has found somebody who _can_. These are happy tears.

In the dim light of the veranda, the first thing that Takao sees is Midorima’s phone, held in a white-knuckled grip on the ledge. The rectangular screen is alight, displaying a connecting call to one Akashi Seijuuro. Unfavorable feelings rise up his throat but it all stops when Takao gets a good look at Midorima’s face. Green eyes widen at him and his heart lurches.

Midorima makes to turn away but Takao is already rushing over. The veranda doesn’t offer much space for movement and Takao manages to pull Midorima close, holding his ace’s wrists so Midorima can’t hide behind them.

“Shin-chan…”

The phone’s screen goes dark but Takao’s reflection remains on Midorima’s lenses.

“I’m okay… I’m – I’m…”

“Look at me, please.” Takao is at a loss; he never expected this reaction from Midorima. His ace is too proud, too untouchable for him to… break… down… Shit. “I’m sorry–”

“No,” Midorima says, the conviction strong in his voice but his eyes are still unable to look Takao head on. “Don’t you _ever_ be sorry for being happy!”

“But I’m not happy,” Takao counters, close to tears himself, and he finally gets Midorima’s attention. He gently rubs Midorima’s wrists, trying to calm down, to calm the both of them down. “How can I, when I see my Shin-chan like this? I can’t start a relationship with Kagami in good conscience knowing that this is how you’d end up.”

“Take me out of the equation, then,” Midorima manages to say with an even tone. “This is between you and Kagami–”

“But this is more than just us,” Takao insists, he was stupid to think that he can come out of this unscathed. He has broken free from his restrictions so it’s no use hiding anymore. The idea _is_ to come clean, right? “Kagami knows how I feel about you and I know that he’s back in there right now, having this exact same talk with Kuroko. Even before I had these feelings for Kagami, I already…” Ah, shoot. Midorima’s eyes have gone dark, gleaming with tears collected at the corners. He really is something else. “I’ve loved you all this time,” Takao blurts out, face heating up, his own hands beginning to shake. “I still do.”

In turn, Midorima goes still. “You… You what?”

Breathing deep, Takao repeats, “Having these feelings for Kagami…” He tightens his hold on Midorima one last time before letting go. “They don’t negate what I’ve always felt for you…”

Something close enough to a smile chases the sorrow from Midorima’s expression. “I’ve hoped,” he murmurs in the chilled silence. “But I could never bring myself to act.” He stares at his hands, the taping on his fingers feel a little stiff now. “I know who I am, what I am, and I…” Midorima’s smile turns bittersweet. “I can’t give you what you need so believe me when I say that this turn out is actually for the best.”

“No, no, no, wait a second – backtrack a bit.” Takao holds up a finger as if to conduct their conversation. “You actually like me back?”

Midorima blinks. “Yes.”

“And you never told me?” Takao asks, incredulous. “How long have you been hiding this from me?”

“I wasn’t exactly _aware_ of the depth of my feelings until certain events took place,” Midorima swats away Takao’s finger that’s pointing accusingly at him.

“And all this time I was thinking I had no chance!” Takao exclaims. “Fuck. And now I even made you cry!”

“It’s no big deal!”

“Yes it is, Shin-chan! Didn’t you hear what I said – I fucking love you–”

“You’re the one who’s not listening! I told you I can’t give you what you want!”

“What are you even talking about? Kids? Aren’t we a little too young to be thinking about–”

“It’s sex, you idiot! I don’t – can’t – give – ugh. Damn it, Takao.”

“… I don’t understand.”

Scoff. “Of course you don’t. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because–”

“The only reason you never said anything, the reason you push me back to square one every time I make a move, every single rebuff I had to endure – it’s all because you can’t get it up.”

“I do not have erectile dysfunction, you fool!”

“Then explain it to me!”

“Why should I?”

“Because! I want to understand why you never gave me a chance! Did you think that I would force you into something you don’t want? Is that why you’re always pushing me away?”

“This isn’t about you! I… was content being with you as we were. Teammates, partners, friends. I always thought I regarded you was the same way as everyone else, that I was only irritated with the boys and girls confessing to you because they would distract you from basketball and I can’t have that. You’re my partner and I refuse to accept another. I may have been destined to become Shutoku’s ace from the start but I would’ve never become its light if I hadn’t met my shadow.”

“You… Shin-chan…” Takao’s heart is racing, Midorima’s words sinking deep into his very bones.

“It took me a while to come to terms with the way I feel about you. I have never experienced the urges that so many others rave about, sexual matters do not concern me which is why I felt so conflicted when I saw the way your relationship with Kagami progressed. I have determined my disinterest in skinship long before so the overwhelming desire to have you for myself had thrown off the very understanding that I had of who I am. I stood helpless, watching you be drawn towards another’s light. By the time I’ve concluded that my orientation has not changed, I have surrendered to the notion that you would be better off with someone who could actually fulfill your needs. We – Takao? Takao, why are you–”

“Stupid Shin-chan!” Takao pounds his fists on Midorima’s chest, trying to digest as much of the confession as he can but it’s too much for him to handle. He’s pretty sure his heart is about to burst out of his ribcage and the only way to contain it is to –

“Wha–!” Midorima goes still when Takao’s face replaces the fists that have been assaulting his chest. Arms circle his body and hold him in place, holding him tight as Takao presses closer. He doesn’t know what to do with himself until he realizes that Takao is shaking. Gingerly, Midorima puts his arms around Takao’s shoulders and he feels whole. This… Just this… He could live with just this. “You fool…”

“’M not…” Takao lifts his wet gaze to his ace. “You’re the one whose heart is beating so loud…”

“S-Shut up.”

Takao continues with a slight smile. “I’m glad… that you finally told me.”

“You don’t think it’s strange?” Midorima murmurs. All the scenarios he’d played out in his head usually ended with Takao laughing at his reveal but right now Takao is facing him in all seriousness.

Shaking his head, Takao hugs Midorima tighter. “It’s surprising but… it certainly explains a lot of things,” he says, thinking of the kotatsu-incident not too long ago. “Sorry for those times I made you uncomfortable.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’ve said so before, right?”

“Yeah, but y’know… There’s no way I’m ever letting go of you now.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you even more. Let’s be together, Shin-chan.”

“Don’t be preposterous. You’re already in a relationship with Kagami.”

“I love you both.”

“What a reckless claim. That wouldn’t be fair at all.”

Takao shakes his head. “What’s not fair is brushing aside what I feel for Tai-chan just because I finally know what you feel for me. That makes it sound like I was just using him.”

“Then why…” Midorima can’t read anything other than honest emotion in Takao’s expression. “Why would you still want _me_ when you already have him?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Takao asks back. “I know the two of you don’t get along–” Midorima snorts at the understatement and Takao continues with a grin. “So we’re going to have to work out how this goes. Okay?” When Midorima only stares at him, Takao anxiously starts worrying his bottom lip. “D-Do you want to be with me, Shin-chan?”

Sighing, Midorima brushes aside the bangs fluttering over Takao’s eyes, his thumb collecting the unshed tears at their corners. “Of course.”


	15. Epilogue

The bicycle slows to a halt in front of an impressive gate. Gloved hands release the handles so Takao could turn his body around. “We’re here, Shin-chan.”

Midorima gets out of the rear cart, hitching up his bag on one shoulder while keeping hold of the Cancer’s lucky item – a bright red parasol – with his free hand. He rings the doorbell and waits for the help to open the gate while Takao dislodges the cart from his bike.

“Welcome back, young master,” comes the customary greeting and Midorima replies with a nod which doubles as a dismissal.

Takao leans his bike against a pillar as he and Midorima push the rickshaw inside. Swiping his hands together in mimicry of dusting them off, Takao stares up at Midorima. “Are you really _really_ not going to join us?”

“Sorry, but I told you I can’t get out of this family affair,” Midorima says, plaintive.

“But it’s movie night~” Takao whines.

“I don’t particularly recall the last one to have gone well,” Midorima drily replies, pulling a sheepish expression from Takao. “In any case,” he continues as they cover up the rickshaw with the usual tarp to keep it clean and relatively protected from the fickle February weather. “Have fun.”

Takao doesn’t bother hiding his disappointment, petulantly sticking out his lips in an exaggerated pout. “Then you’d better give me a damn good goodbye kiss to last me ‘til Monday.”

A blush colors Midorima’s face and he clears his throat to cover up his embarrassment. “Seriously, Takao…” Despite his muttering, Midorima leans in close and plants a quick but firm kiss on Takao’s waiting lips.

“Mmm.” Takao smiles sweetly, the sparkle in his eyes reflecting the flushed face of his partner. “Thanks, Shin-chan. I’ll be going ahead now.”

Nodding stiffly, Midorima walks Takao back out the gate. “Bye, then,” he says as Takao kicks off the bicycle stand and hops on his ride.

“I’ll call you later!” Takao waves off with a peace sign, pedaling away.

As Takao’s figure grows smaller in the distance, Midorima retreats into his home. His heart is still beating in a frenzy and he takes a series of steadying breaths. Despite all the weeks that have passed, he still isn’t used to this mutual exchange of affection that they have established between them.

“ _That’s what boyfriends do, Shin-chan!_ ” Takao had laughed at him when he first expressed that thought. He then made a point by holding tight to Midorima’s hand as they wandered aimlessly around the mall.

It feels nice, though.

Midorima takes off his shoes at the entryway and proceeds to his room, passing by his younger sister in the living room. The curtains are drawn wide open. She sends a teasing grin his way but doesn’t comment.

••••••••••••

“Captain, we’re heading out!” Kagami calls, putting on his varsity jacket.

“Okay. See you, Monday!”

“Yessir.”

Kuroko walks behind Kagami, fishing for his phone which has begun vibrating to announce a new message. “Momoi-san is at the flower shop,” he announces, closing his phone once his reply finishes sending.

“It’s just her, right?” Kagami confirms, looking sideways at Kuroko.

“Maybe Aomine-kun is there,” Kuroko states, slightly teasing. “You know how inseparable they are.”

“Kuroko!”

The shorter teen merely blinks at him. “I don’t see the problem if Aomine-kun decides to tag along to movie night at the last minute.”

“But – Takao–”

“Oh? Are you ashamed of your blooming relationship with Takao-kun?” Kuroko asks, half-joking. “My, my… And after that whole speech you made, too.”

“S-Shut up.” Kagami blushes. “I’m not ashamed. It’s just – the _teasing_ – er.” They pause at the end of the sidewalk, the blinking red light telling them not to cross. “I mean, if it comes from you, I can handle it but _Aomine_ –” He makes a face as if he’d just swallowed a sour lemon. “I don’t want to start a brawl in my living room.”

Wearing a quirk of a smile, Kuroko replies, “Then I’ll do my best to dissuade Aomine-kun should the matter arise.”

“Ugh.”

“It’ll only be a matter of time before people find out, anyway,” Kuroko continues as they cross at the green light. “With Momoi-san joining us and all.”

Kagami grouses even further, narrowing his eyes at Kuroko. “So _that’s_ why you invited her.”

“Not really.”

••••••••••••

“I can’t _believe_ you set me up to go _stag_ at what is _obviously_ a couples’ movie night,” Himuro accuses, pointing a fork in Kagami’s direction as they unpack the delivery pizza and pasta.

“I didn’t invite you over in the first place,” Kagami complains, folding up the paper bags so they can serve as trash holders later on. “You invited yourself over because you needed a place to crash.”

“You are going to regret saying that to my face,” Himuro states with a dangerous air about him.

“More importantly, why are we watching a horror movie?” Kuroko pipes up to diffuse the brewing animosity. He holds up the DVD case, brows slightly furrowed.

“Because everything else in the movie theaters is a sappy love story,” Takao answers from the kitchen.

“Well it _is_ Valentine’s season,” Momoi comments from beside him, a bright blush still burning on her cheeks at Himuro’s remark. She and Takao are busy with dishing out ice and drinks for the entire party. She should’ve brought Aomine but, for once, the guy refused and headed home instead. Something about an important live stream for Horikata Mai’s fans that he absolutely cannot miss. Momoi sighs. How typical.

“And this has ‘Valentine’ in the title so it should do,” Kagami grins.

“There is also a creepy man with a pickaxe on the cover,” Kuroko points out.

“I’ve seen this one when I was in America.” Himuro takes the case from Kuroko and heads over to the DVD player to load it. “You guys are gonna love it.”

••••••••••••

The suspenseful background music rises to a crescendo, ending in a thunderous clap and the reveal of another bloody victim. A shrill cry pierces the room as the viewers flinch away from the screen.

“Momoi-san, it’s okay.”

“…That wasn’t me.” Momoi looks around to find Takao with his knees folded to his chest. The Shutoku player is hiding behind the arm that Kagami is resting over his knees; only his eyes are visible, peeking at the screen with great trepidation.

“Takao, seriously, it’s not even that scary,” Kagami mutters even though his brave front is betrayed by the tremors in his voice.

“I know but the _suspense!_ ” Takao’s reply is muffled as he tries his earnest to squeeze even closer to Kagami.

“Just sit on his lap,” Himuro calls over, chewing on his pizza. “It will be less embarrassing for the rest of us.”

As Kagami snaps something about Himuro minding his own business, Momoi gets the metaphorical light bulb switching on over her head. She tries to focus back on the movie but her curious mind leads her eyes back on the couple occupying the couch with her. She did wonder why Kuroko chose the single seat and had her sit between him and his light… _Kuroko_...

The teen has his hands full with a bowl of half-eaten pasta, shaking slightly as the screen goes over the details of the dead body. He blinks and sits back a little when the scene changes, then his gaze ever so slightly shifts towards the couch.

Momoi knows she’s been caught staring and abashedly looks down at her drink.

••••••••••••

Movie night ends with Kuroko gallantly escorting Momoi outside as both Himuro and Takao have brought overnight bags with them.

Wrapping a wool scarf around her neck, Momoi walks side-by-side with Kuroko along the brightly-lit pavement. “Thank you for inviting me,” she says as a means to break the silence.

“Did you enjoy the movie? It was... a little too scary than what I had in mind,” Kuroko replies, amiable.

Momoi nods. “It’s alright. A little something to shake things up is never bad but...” She looks away, her genial tone hushed. “I’m guessing that’s not the only reason you invited me?”

This time of the night, the traffic has slowed from the rush hour commuters dying to get home. Kuroko lets the static speak for a few moments until they find themselves in the middle of an empty sidewalk. He squares his shoulders and bows deeply before his former team manager. “I’m sorry, Momoi-san. It was a moment of weakness and I... I didn’t think I could get through this by myself. I needed someone strong.”

Hearing that, Momoi’s expression softens. She steps up and puts a comforting hand on Kuoko’s arm. “I’ve always liked you for your honesty, Kuroko-kun. But really, those two, I never would’ve thought.”

“You can’t always predict everything,” Kuroko teases good-naturedly as he straightens up. The mood around him is noticeably lighter.

Momoi indulges him with a grin. “Wait til I tell Dai-chan~”

“Ah, don’t do that,” Kuroko says once the both of them resume walking. “Kagami-kun is very shy...”

“How dull,” Momoi complains. They cross the street and she turns around, looking Kuroko in the eyes. “But you’re okay, right?”

“I am.”

••••••••••••

“I’m done with the shower!” Takao announces, walking out in his pajamas with his overnight bag slung over one shoulder. A door to his right opens and Himuro peeks out.

“I need to be up at eight tomorrow for a university tour,” Himuro states – or threatens, more like. “If you two keep me up with whatever shenanigans your hormones put you up to I swear–”

“Tatsuya, seriously,” Kagami cuts in, coming up with his own towel and change of clothes in hand. “We’re not going to do anything.”

Himuro’s visible eye narrows in distrust.

“Not much, anyway,” Takao adds after a beat of silence. Kagami blushes beet red, making choking sounds while Himuro just slaps a hand to his face. “Here.”

Pulling back his palm, Himuro gets handed a packet of ear plugs. “What.”

“It’s my lucky item for the day,” Takao explains, grinning too gleefully to be sane. “Shin-chan said to always keep it on hand but you look like you’ll be needing it more than I do.”

“For goodness’ sake,” Kagami grumbles, brows knitted together as he stomps away. “I am out of here.”

When the door to the bathroom slams shut, Himuro chucks the package back at Takao who catches it easily. “You morons are good for each other.”

Takao beams.

“But I still think you’re a bad influence.”

Chuckling, Takao keeps the ear plugs back inside his bag. “Well, you called this one. No take backs.”

“You can keep him,” Himuro retorts, retreating into his room with the slightest grin. “Good night.”

“’Night.”


End file.
